Obsession
by sweetlady77
Summary: On New Year's Day 2014, Hilary and Devon take their relationship to the next step after a scorching hot kiss. From there, they build a secret relationship, hidden away from Devon's family. However, the biggest obstacle is Neil, who has just broken off his engagement to Leslie. He finds himself wanting Hilary and would do anything to steal her away from his own son...
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I do not own Young and the Restless characters of Devon Hamilton Winters, Hilary Curtis/Ann Turner, or any other Genoa City character in this piece. Lord knows if I did, they would be in better hands- hands that love and adore their story potential.

Prologue: Surveillance

One scorching New Year's Eve kiss led to this moment, led to this inevitable Valentine's Day.

At first, she thought the kiss's origin came from too much sparkling champagne. That night, alcohol turned her wicked, almost wanton in a naive courtesan way. Repressed confidence seductively slipped underneath form fitting satin, sifted though short sleeved hot pink dress that maxed out her credit card.

She hadn't really wanted to stay in her hotel room watching Time Square glitter ball drop on upgraded suite's sleek flat screen. She wanted to see him, see him see her in the dress.

"Think about who you want to be kissing at midnight," Jack had commanded.

As though Eve's very serpent slithered and whispered into tipsy ear, on a holiday surely named after her, Hilary caught Devon outside. They said nothing. No further words could be exchanged. Not when naked, hungry eyes conveyed all, laid full house on the card table. No longer pent up and frustrated, Hilary and Devon kissed and kissed and kissed right outside where anyone could have seen them. Anyone.

Two dissolved faces discovering and searching, turning opposite diagonals, tasted elixir, a magical elixir too addictive to be classified as ordinary. That first kiss evoked magic far beyond any man's lips ever devoured. This was her destiny. Licentious ambrosia melded their turbulent tongues together. Exhaustion couldn't form when desperate friction told them not to part. Never part. His busy hands traced her back, her nape, her updo. She stayed massaging his bald head, pleased to have coveted wish. It was then she realized alcohol alone wasn't the culprit. She wanted this, wanted him.

Like some manic Cinderella spell, lips broke apart. Pledge made in darkness. They vowed to keep their emotions clandestine, especially away from Lily, who still tossed vicious barbs left and right at Hilary and from Neil, whose steadfast forgiveness seemed suspect.

"He was the first one to forgive you," Devon had said. His fingers alternated tasks- stroking her blush coated cheeks and combing curtained mass of soft black hair.

"I don't know, Devon. He gives off vibes," Hilary admitted. "Please don't take this the wrong way, I know you love your father, but I think his form of forgiveness may be a facade."

He thought it strange, but trusted her intuition. He would do anything to stay more than friends. Yes, a camaraderie grew, but ardent devotion blossomed fiercely, an unquiet resistance that wasn't merely lust derived.

Hilary yearned to get past former vengeful motives, start a fresh life without Ann Turner's bloodthirsty quest catching up and hovering above happiness. Determined Devon replenished her esteem with compliments galore. Katherine's inheritance could offer expensive gifts and baubles, but he knew she needed to hear affectionate words, feel his comforting prose embrace around old wounds yet revealed.

So from that first tantalizing New Year's kiss, cupid struck twosome conducted boyfriend and girlfriend activities in the outskirts of Genoa City: candlelight dinner dates, tennis matches, ice skating, movies, holding hands, just being a normal couple. Make out sessions hotter than experimental teenagers figuring out how lips and tongues moved. Hilary and Devon's cataclysmic descent into kissing territory wasn't fearful. Not awkward. Their joined mouths shadowed future with passionate clarity and stunning tenderness.

Something rare and poignant brewed between them, electrocuting surface, frothing with tiny invisible magic escaped into the air, pulsing and building, building up to her suite.

She stood, barefoot, holding red roses matching full matte lips. Underneath her black satin robe, Devon's lacy red gift awaited.

Her heart pounded a fervent song for him. He knew the tune. Undeniable feelings flew into her expressive eyes and captured him, sustained him. She must sense his own inner beating, desiring to join, become one. For months, sweet kisses aroused and tested bounds of patience. He knew from bones to skin that she was worth waiting for.

"Are you sure?" She asked, hesitant. Hesitant of him changing his mind, of finally figuring out she wasn't worth being a secret. He could have any woman in the world, could afford any woman.

Still he came to her.

He came to her dressed in a gorgeous silk cranberry shirt with matching cranberry tie, all heather grey suit, well tailored. God, he was so fine. Too fine for her.

"Usually the man asks that," he said.

They laughed, breaking tension tide.

"I don't want to come between you and your family, Devon." She kept seriousness alive, fighting her whetting appetite. "If you change your mind, I understand and support your decision."

"Hilary, it is what's inside of me that matters. When I'm not around you, I'm lost. I'm disjointed. You fill my thoughts, my dreams. All I do is think about being with you. I want to eat up every second surrounded in you. Can you seriously say you want this to end?"

He came closer, letting invisible gravitational pull lure him. She smelled better than high priced flowers. He needed to drown in her. Forever.

Doe eyes widened, watching vital undercurrents float inside velvet orbs. His hand reached over, caressed her robe sleeve. Her eyelids surrendered, hiding desires she knew he saw.

"No," she responded, sounding breathless as though he had just kissed her.

She let him inside and shut the door. He turned the lock.

"I love you," he confessed. It had been inside him many weeks, torturing his everyday. Inner feathers tickled vocal cords, teasing words to oblivion. He breathed, feeling so alive for the first time, repeating for emphasis, for his piece of mind, for hers. "I'm in love with you, Hilary Curtis. Utterly and completely in love."

She took his larger brown hands in hers and smiled. No flushed and smiled together.

"Devon, I love you. I think I have always been in love with you, but I let anger and fear get in the way."

"Well, nothing is standing in the way. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever."

He cupped her face and she touched the back of his head.

Their lips met in cordial greeting. Gentle affection fast transformed into amatory gratification, surpassing self-control, surpassing realest reality. They were in a cortex of their own making. And it felt indescribable, way too raw to be elicit seduction.

"God, I want you," Hilary gasped.

He stroked her face, leaning his forehead against hers, overcome with great emotion.

Within seconds, he lifted and carried her towards the bed.

Surrounded by candles and silk, slowly removed clothes revealed all.

Devon took in his Valentine's Day gift, struck by her glorious lithe form. Crimson red lace left little to his starved imagination. He found himself alternating between licking, laving, and nibbling dewy mahogany skin, its beautiful, unique flavor sating his inner agony. His big, large hands cupped and caressed. His firm, pliant mouth and ravenous tongue taking place, setting her on fire.

Hilary was losing it, losing battle with sanity. He had her. Really had her in a way no one else could compare.

"Don't close your eyes," he demanded, honeyed seduction coating his voice, making her body shiver with requited need. "I want to see your beautiful face looking at me."

She looked at him then, her hooded gaze looking drugged, hazed. Sight that both stunned and awed, weakening languid senses. With him perched on her flat stomach, his godlike hands in the midst of rubbing up her smooth legs and parted thighs, he was easily the most handsome man on earth. He stole remainder of her breath away.

She touched his iron chest, brushed at impressive biceps, teased all his fetching artisan tattoos, savoring lion last. For he had all the capabilities of the wild African beast- strong, graceful, virile. Yet gentle kisses and wet bites showed her his soft, tender side. She was seeing it, feeling it.

Soon, they found each other, connecting hotly, eager for pleasurable gratification. Their hands combined together above her spread out dampened curls, moist inserted fingers and mimicking their lower bodies. His drooping eyes seduced her, enveloped her as he moved and surged further. She met him thrust for rapturous thrust, calling out his name, begging him never to stop.

Bodies rolled and curled. She clawed his back, raking excited nails aligning his spine. He marked her neck, showering suckled kisses and carnal nibbles.

They reached stimulating, scorching hot ecstasy, an intensely erotic bliss that should have been their secret alone.

Yet from inside the dark closet, yards away, someone watched with knotted brows and a twisted scowl, balling enraged fists.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Gnawing

Hilary was pregnant. Five months pregnant to be exact. Peanut, their unborn babe's nickname, wasn't planned. They were too thrilled to care about timing. She smiled reflecting on her boyfriend. Boyfriend. She almost gushed. It had been a long long while since she acquired a genuine solid boyfriend. A concealed, hush hush boyfriend at that. Devon topped the rest. He had her head so far up cloud nine, she couldn't see straight. All she wanted was him, lying beside him, giggling and smiling around him, loving him.

Four months ago, they moved in together, renovating a charming four bedroom cottage near Sharon's ranch. Hilary wanted to split cost determined that they were together in every way including financially. Although not scoring a vast inheritance, she had money saved. It seemed perfect time to invest and share in the investing. They hadn't known she was already a few weeks along when christening every room with love words and sensuous promises of provocative tomorrows. In mid-March, she missed her period and merely thought Mother Nature late. Until morning sickness came. She told Devon it must have been a stomach virus. Before going to work she purchased a pregnancy test and performed instructions during lunch break. She had pregnancy scares in the past, with significant others prepared to quit and run. Naturally, she was scared of Devon turning away, saying he had his fun with her. Falseness was one thing, but reality proved true. She knew, she felt pregnant. Pink positive plus sign stared and could not be unseen.

"Devon, we're going to have a baby," she practiced in the mirror. "Devon, honey, I'm pregnant."

Front door opened. He came inside, wearing a navy blue three piece suit, turquoise blue shirt and synchronizing tie. Two plastic bags of delicious smelling Asian dinner filled nostrils and hit queasy stomach.

She swallowed nerves, prepared for the worst.

"Hey Baby," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Hi," she managed out, turning and running into the bathroom, puking spattered brains out.

He was waiting when she came out, face freshly clean and teeth brushed.

"It's not a stomach virus that you have," he stated, not questioning. "You're pregnant aren't you?"

She nodded her head, too afraid of looking at him. Moving in had been a pivotal first step. A baby was a bigger one. A permanent circumstance that would change both of their lives.

"How long have you known?"

"I just took the pregnancy test this afternoon. I scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow."

"Hilary look at me."

Her pride screamed no, but she bravely glanced up anyway.

He was grinning ear to ear.

"Devon, you're-"

Suddenly, he swooped into personal space and picked her up, spinning them about in giddy fashion, laughing and shouting, "we're going to have a baby! We're going to have a baby!"

He put her down. Affectionate kissing and delightful embracing ensued. He leaned down, touching and talking to her belly. She had cupped gentle softness of his bald head, treasuring electric currents of his excitement surge inside her, a different joyous intimacy.

"Are you sure this okay? If you're not ready..."

"Are you kidding me right now? I am over the moon, Baby. Over the moon!" He led her to velvet grey sofa, stole hands, and stared meaningfully. "Our love created this child and I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you. I love you so damn much, Hilary. I vow to love this child, to love all the others after this one. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she said, sniffling, trying not to become too emotional. "I hear you, Devon. I love you and I want this. I want us to have a family together. You, me, and our children however and whenever they come to be."

They made love slow and delicately, committing to each other, taking arousing happiness to highest passionate rhapsody.

His attentiveness, his desire to do anything for her never wavered, blooming sweetly as midnight runs to get pina colada sherbet and ground yellow mustard kicked in. While growing up, she imagined motherhood. She wanted to be Rose prior to Rose letting alcohol dissolve good parenting. She wanted a child to know love every single day.

However, something threatened their world. It wasn't solely Devon's family putting her on edge, intuition panicked, shooting off worrisome red flags. A warning within rocked her core, suggesting their euphoric bubble would burst in a most horrific way.

Cane knew. As did Sharon. Only a matter of time before Neil and Lily joined the mix.

Sharon came by the check upon Hilary, having heard about an unexpected hospital visit.

"How are you feeling?" Sharon asked, bringing in a silver tray. Iced lemonade filled large clear glass pitcher and rounded butter cookies centered red plate. She insisted on preparing, instructing Hilary to take it easy.

"Better," Hilary replied, reaching for two cookies. She was in good spirits after Hurricane Lily wreaked havoc and didn't want to reflect on the gruesome memory. "It makes me comfortable to keep the secret. I love us and feel safe in us. But I can sense that Devon wants to tell his family- Lily, Neil, everyone."

"Really? Even after what Lily did?"

"She's his sister and I don't want to come in between them."

"You two are in love, I'm sure they will accept eventually. They must understand the heart wants what it wants right?"

Hilary flashed back to Lily slipping into aggressive violence. Ms. Winters Ashby didn't stop at flinging insults anymore...

"You think? After all, I nearly destroyed them."

"Well, so they won't fully be welcoming. Look at me, I also fell for a rich boy. Nikki could not stand me and Victor and I used to have a friendship. Everything has changed. They tolerated on some occasions, especially once our children were born."

"I'm so sorry, Sharon."

"Don't be." She touched Hilary's hand in a kind gesture. "It's going to be okay."

"I doubt they will ever accept me," Hilary sighed.

"Well, just be lucky the most important person did," Sharon said. "I'm happy you found love, Sweetie. Getting to see you and Devon together is a sight out of romance movies- the good kind of romance movies. This baby will be proud to have two wonderful, well grounded parents."

"Thank you so much for saying that."

They sipped lemonade and browsed professional photography session. Hilary composed Father's Day scrapbook present.

"These are gorgeous shots," Sharon bemused, turning pages, blue eyes widening at black and white ultrasounds nestled between sepia pictures of a beautiful expectant family.

"Thank you," Hilary beamed, proud and humbled. "I'm not the world's best scrapbooker, but I do try."

"Oh I wouldn't peg you for a novice."

"You're too kind. Thank you for the lemonade and cookies."

"Anytime. I'm literally next door you know?"

Next to Sharon, Jack was the only person who knew she was pregnant.

"Should I ask who's the father?" He asked three weeks ago.

"We're not ready to reveal him yet," Hilary sighed. "How did you know?"

"The constant hand at the belly. Trust me, I've been around plenty of pregnant women to notice the signs. He must be very special."

"Yes very."

"Will you two get married?"

Hilary flushed from swift daydream of walking down floral decorated aisle to a waiting Devon.

"Oh. Was that too personal?" Jack asked. "I'm sorry about that."

Since then, Jack started being extra careful at work, making sure she drank plentiful water, took prenatal vitamins on time schedule. He even ushered her out of the door yesterday afternoon. Wooziness overcame a simple filing task.

Of course, Devon came home straight away and massaged her feet.

Home. Their home.

She was still getting used to the idea.

After Sharon left, Hilary found some time to organize data Jack emailed her. Although he instructed bed rest and folic acid, she worked anyway.

Yet while retaining order, focusing on tasks, thinking about a splendid future with Devon, pesky unease refused to die. Something just wasn't right. She didn't want to frighten Devon, but unexplainable malice poisoned what should have been happiest visions.

It wouldn't be long until skeletons rose from below the grave.

/

"I think this is the longest relationship since Roxanne," Lily commented, testing silver fork on a large piece of crisp arugula. "Are you that afraid of saying who she is?"

"Just give him time, Sweetheart," Cane said, raising a conspirator brow that said, "c'mon tell her or I will." Devon shrugged off minuscule threat. Although he loved the Aussie like a brother, it irked him to be rushed into telling a secret that wasn't his alone to confess. Then again, six months passed by, each day seeming like truth would come. They could be revealed. Hell, his family thought he still lived in a private suite. Not in a charming cottage between thin willow trees and perennial wildflowers.

Lily's behavior at the Jabot fashion show worsened. He watched his sister humiliate Hilary. She muttered nasty comments about the designer's navy blue dress not fitting due to constricting measurements and that Hilary should be lucky a tailor was there to altar "disrespectful" weight pain. It pissed him off. Earlier, he soothed Hilary's fragile state of mind. He sighed, watching her stare at other models, especially the star Esmerelda. The curly coifed beauty made sure to keep walking pass Devon and giving him sultry bold stares. Ah, but it was Hilary who took away Devon's capability of being alive. He naively convinced Hilary he would not stare at her the way he did whenever they were alone, but the sexy blue dress heated voracious impulse. His heart and mind filled with insatiable need that refused withering.

When it came to Lily, however, last week's pool incident was the final straw. Devon wished that she and Cane had stayed in Paris. Stayed away.

"Lily, what the hell has gotten in to you?" Devon screamed. "Have you no idea what you almost did? You almost-"

"Almost what?" Lily snarled.

He wanted to confess then and there.

Angered Lily gave him no chance to respond.

"Why do you keep defending her? She doesn't need you to play knight in shining armor."

"Lily, I love you, but you have got to lay off on Hilary. She has redeemed herself."

"Not in my eyes! Don't forget what she's done to us, to me, to Dad."

"I have forgiven her."

Lily's brows rose and hands immediately swept to her hips.

"Since when have you forgiven that skank?"

"Does it matter? All I'm saying is stop being cruel. And I told you not to call her that."

"No, Devon. She hasn't earned my kindness or my respect. Her reformed act may have fooled you, Jack, and maybe even Dad, but I will never trust her and neither should you!"

She rolled disgusted eyes and left him.

"The baby is fine," said Dr. Gillian Murphy, Hilary's OBGYN. "If she had been shoved any harder..."

"I understand," Hilary said, wiping tear stained face.

Once she had gone, Hilary snapped.

"Your sister almost made me lose our baby, Devon!"

"I know. I know," he said, massaging her shoulders.

"This is too much," she sighed. "Too much."

"Don't sound like that. Lily's behavior was inexcusable today, but don't make it sound like you want us to end, Hilary."

"I'm not... it's just. If it were me alone, I could defend myself against her, but with this baby..."

"Maybe it is best to stay low for a while."

And that was how Cane found out. He saw them leaving the hospital, holding hands, closely intertwined.

"I knew it," Cane snarled, confronting Devon alone. "I knew you two had something when we saw you at the bar before you got arrested."

"Don't tell anyone," Devon growled. "It's still so new for the both of us."

"New? This seems to be going on for months."

"And what if it has?"

"You're saying that I have to keep you and Hilary being in a relationship a secret from my wife? Do you know what this would do to her? I promised not to hide anything ever again."

"Yes. I will tell her in my own time."

Now Devon looked at his darling sister, a mother, a devoted wife, sitting across GCAC's fine table, wearing red tank top dress, her long loose hair curling about her thin shoulders. They had always been close. She had his back. He had hers. They were best friends. Yet he had a new obligation, a growing family to protect, one he helped create. He couldn't let anything or anyone come between the love of his life and their happiness. Not even Lily. It cut him like a knife, knowing that she could never forgive Hilary. Malice could extend to him if she found out...

"My man!" Neil entered the fray, reaching out and offering a handshake.

"Hey Dad!" Devon greeted.

"Still quiet on the girlfriend?" Neil looked to Lily and kissed her cheek. She nodded and rolled her eyes, smiling all the while.

"I don't see why this is a big deal," Devon said, scooping up the last of grilled zucchini.

"It is a big deal," Cane inserted. "After all, this may be the love of your life right? Why keep it hidden?"

Devon chewed, frowning at his brother-in-law.

"What do we have to do follow you or something?" Lily asked.

"No," Devon laughed.

"Better be careful, Son," Neil said sternly, flagging down a waiter. "You never know who's watching."

The comment gave Devon a sense of unease. Plus his father's eyes seemed to be filled with an incredulous air of suspicious intrigue. Devon smiled and shook his head anyway. His mind recalled Hilary's admitted discomfort.

"How are you holding up, Dad?" Lily asked. "Since you and Leslie..."

"Oh things are fine. I'm doing great."

"No desire to?" Devon gestured his head towards an older couple indulging in champagne.

"Not at all, Son. Not at all."

"So proud of you!" Lily exclaimed, touching Neil's shoulder. "Don't worry you will find a great lady someday."

"Oh I do have my eyes on someone," Neil said, staring coolly at Devon.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense Dad," Devon said, chuckling. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"You'll know soon enough."

"So cryptic," Lily said laughing.

"Yeah," Cane chimed in. "What's with you Winters men."

"Hey, you're technically a Winters man too," Neil teased.

"As much as I enjoyed this lunch, I do have to go," Devon announced.

"What are your plans?" Lily asked. "Ice cream and snorkling?"

"No."

His phone vibrated.

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream, crunchy peanut butter, and avocados please xoxoxo," Hilary texted.

Whatever she planned to make did not sound delicious, but it made him grin. Peanut had a crazy appetite.

"Okay," he texted back.

"Sharon was here," she said.

"Did you two get into any treble?" He quickly amended, typing on mini keyboard fast."Whoops, I mean trouble* :)"

"Why would we be in trouble? You think the worst in me."

"Babe, you know I love you- when you're trouble."

"Are you sure? Because I can be treble too."

"Hahahahaha. You're cute."

"I know."

"Earth to Devon," Lily said, snapping her fingers and laughing. "Stop being rude. Get off your phone and say goodbye to your family."

He smiled and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"Yes. Where were you just now?" Neil asked, barging in, leaning close to peep at Devon's phone. "Looks like your special lady put a spell on you."

"She's pretty amazing," Devon said, slapping his phone shut.

"Is she now?"

"Yes."

He smoothed out short sleeved white polo and bade them farewell.

"Honey, I'm home," Devon called, carrying in grocery bags of requests.

"Devon," she called out, greeting him with a ginger kiss. "How was lunch with Lily?"

"Same ole same ole."

"Still asking about your mystery girlfriend?"

"I feel the walls closing in Hilary."

He collapsed in her arms, breaking down from internal struggle. She held him tight, her welcomed touch healing inner woe, offering him solace and comfort.

Most importantly, love. True love.

/

"There's a glow to you, Hilary," Neil had said, close enough to smell fragrant allure.

"Oh thanks," she responded, flushing and looking so radiant it struck him like speeding train wheels hitting tracks.

He stroked bearded face, sitting in dim lit office, watching her leave early in brilliant broad daylight. He had watched her all day, slyly of course. He noticed that she declined Gwen the accountant's offer of lunch. The twosome always ate lunch together. He saw her with the box.

"What's that?" He asked, handing her a manila folder containing Jabot's Forester Creations proposal, a secret plot he concocted to get him and Hilary alone.

"It's nothing," Hilary said, quickly hiding pregnancy test and taking the file. Neil purposely stroked her hand, almost groaning aloud from sensation. She must have felt it too, having snatched herself from his grasp immediately.

"Thanks Neil," she said, dismissing him.

An inkling told him to do it. To do the unthinkable. No one else was around when he entered Jack's office and dived into Hilary's trash can. Black gloved hands reached inside and black eyes leaped through contents. The lavender box contained the discarded pregnancy test. Slim white instrument with its daunting pink plus sign immediately crushed in leather grasp.

Brows knitted together so hard, they almost permanently joined.

He dumped Leslie. Dumped her cold and hard months ago on Valentine's Day.

"Neil, why are you doing this?" Leslie asked, tears glistening, too defiant to fall.

"I want to move on," he said, bored with theatrics. "With someone else."

"Someone else? You're cheating on me?"

"Not exactly."

"You bastard!"

She took off the expensive ring and flung it in his face. He only smiled, catching it with ease.

"What has happened to you, Neil? How can you be so cold, so unfeeling?"

"I'm sorry, Leslie. I truly am."

"I can do better than you anyway!" She retorted, wiping her absent face and smoothing her silk black bob.

That she did, marrying some young light skinned doctor much later.

Unfortunately for Neil, Valentine's Day also signaled the night an ugly ire invaded his chest, so ugly and volatile, he felt like Superman being struck by kryptonite. His own son. His own hotheaded, temperamental, billionaire son.

After all he had done for Hilary, readily forgiving her, recommending her to Jack. She repaid him by sneaking around his back, banging his son.

It had been easy to get Hilary's room key. Play the doting boyfriend eager to romance his lady, surprise her with chocolates and an over sentimental Hallmark card. He planned to confess that he had always wanted her, always even when she was spiking his drinks with alcohol and tempting Cane from his marriage. Cane proved his loyalty. Devon did not.

Room had been supplied with candles, chilled wine, upturned sheets. Sight made his brows rise. He recalled attempts, even before breaking up with his fiancee, to coax Hilary into seeing the light.

"Feel like catching a movie and a smoothie?" He asked.

"I have plans tonight," she replied. "Just me, wine, and a book."

"Want to grab a burger?" He asked the next day. "It's on me!"

"I have to call it a night," she said. "Jack has given me so much work, I'm too exhausted to even keep my head up to eat."

Rejection stung. He refused to give up. She felt sorry for herself, wanted to make amends and prove her worth.

In the room, however, a romantic scheme met his view. She returned. He stayed in the closet, watching her. He heard shower spray, saw her come from the bathroom clad in a thigh length robe. Her scent wafted into his hiding place, strangling him, arousing him. He wanted to come out, offer her the world...

Until the door rang and she giddily raced over to answer it. Their young, forbidden professions of love killed him. Devon killed him. Murdered remains of his fatherly love dissolved in a pit of rage.

They both lied. Those lying liars!

Memories of the closet ate him, consumed him. In delirious mind, he heard her moan for him, enchanting ferocious animalistic side threatening to explode when she said his name in the workplace. Times arose where he wanted to wipe files clear off the desk and take her right then and there. She taunted him enough.

But they couldn't be together. Not with that little problem in the way.

Jealousy ate sanity, growing and growing, itching and clawing. Inner lesion palpating to an inner rotting cancer.

He had done terrible things. Hurtful things. To a lot of people. Affairs were terrible. Some he felt guilty about. Others not so much. He had conservative morals, but ravenous, incurable appetite for women was nothing to apologize for. Women stroked that liberal libertine side of him. He was a man. A weak man.

Hilary seemed to be the end of the search. The light at the end of the tunnel. He would have her.

He had never hurt anyone as much as he was imagining inflicting pain on his competition. He had hoped for emotional, maybe even psychological consequences, but that unexpected baby...

Something had to be done about Devon. About the baby.

So he could have her. Then they would make a baby of their own.

"Moses would like that," he whispered to an empty room.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned...

"You should get those checked out," a female voice commented.

"What?" Devon asked, turning and looking at workout intruder, putting down GCAC's heavy black weights. She wore black sports bra, red sweatpants and athletic sneakers, golden eyes peering at him underneath blunt cut bangs.

"Those look like some deep scratches on your nape and spine," she added, pointing left handed purple dumbbell at noticeable scars, leaning in to inspect closer.

"Oh no, it's nothing," Devon said. He smiled, thinking perhaps he should start wearing t-shirts instead of tank tops. The world didn't need to know Hilary's secret talent as a pleasure releasing backscratcher.

"I'm sorry." She flushed, seeming to read his mind.

"You're the receptionist right? At Jabot?"

"I'm actually an administrative accountant, but yes I work at Jabot. I'm Gwen. You're Devon?"

"Yes. That's right."

She stared at him with timid interest, her flustered cheeks becoming more prominent. Manicured olive skinned hands almost clumsily dropped a dumbbell. He didn't need that to land on him. Anywhere.

"Well, I gotta run," he said, standing up and grabbing his damp white towel. "Nice seeing you!"

He rushed out and showered upstairs. In his private suite's lavish tub, hot, welcoming steam relaxed exerted muscles. Imaginary Hilary came inside, naked and eager, caressing him with calculated mahogany fingers. Alluring flower fragrance invaded nostrils, lulling and seducing him. She knew just where to stroke away palpating ache, a skilled temptress leading stress into sensuous calm. He relived sumptuous gift she gave that morning, awakening succumbing to blissful urgency before a rooster cried out for dawn. And he returned ardent affection, remembering taste of exotic vanilla and sugared honey sap, piquant fulfillment that could uphold a man's gluttonous lips and tongue.

"You almost made me late for work," she had sighed, luxuriously spoiled, spent.

"Do you have to go?" Devon whined, rubbing her smooth shoulders, praying that they could stay in their cocoon of crumpled teal and cream Egyptian cotton sheets. He liked how she looked, belonging, meant to be. Insatiable longing for her refused sating. She remained cemented in his brain, in his heart.

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "I have a mandatory board meeting."

Her voice said one thing. Her poised, fatigued body spoke another, refusing to move. They both looked at cherry wood nightstand clock. 6:49 AM.

"Babe, just when are you going to get ready? You know you take forever."

She had, however, enough energy to slap his bald head with a fluffy beige pillow.

"When my strength returns from the devil!" She screamed, laughing.

He crawled towards his satisfied lover, lying closer to smell and drown.

"Damn board meetings," he uttered against her ear, kissing and tickling bare skin. "And damn Jack Abbott for stealing my girlfriend at eight in the morning!"

"Devon..." She giggled, playing with his hands, playing coy game of wanting him to stop or continue.

"What?"

"I love when you call me your girlfriend."

Teasing humor melted into appeasing ardor. He touched her radiant face then and kissed her mouth, drunk on her unconditional love for him.

He smiled on this adoring reflection, ready to change her status, their status, sooner rather than later.

On the drive, with top down, warm sun shining on his face, Jazzy Jeff and Fresh Prince's "Summertime" blasting speakers, he wished to follow tradition. It would be nice to ask Hilary's father for his daughter's hand in marriage. He treasured Father's Day present she made him, especially poignant photographs captured of them together in the backyard tree tire swing, eyeing each other with connected hands on her belly. He couldn't wait to be a father, couldn't wait to build a family with Hilary. He also spent time with his dad all the while thinking about her and her absent parent. Was he alive? Was he dead? Were their terms terse as he was with Tucker, his own biological father? She obviously had a deep connection to her mother. As for her father...

"Ah, Mr. Hamilton, right on time," greeted salesman in Hugo Boss two button tweed, light blue shirt, and red and black striped tie. Short dark brown hair formed a thick and wavy crown around smooth pale face. He reminded him a little of Nicholas Newman.

"Hello, Mr. Walters, I presume?" Devon asked.

"At your service." Blue green eyes twinkled with delight, delight for a big sale.

Everyone in Genoa City knew Devon Hamilton Winters was a rich heir to Katherine Chancellor's vast fortune. To Devon the real fortune was his future, his future with Hilary and their child, no children.

Sterling silver and thin gold bands glittered with jeweled decadence, each huge rock attempting to outdo the other, catch his wandering eye like gaudy supermodels he used to "date." Yet Hilary a million paces above the rest deserved something far more original, something special. This eternity ring meant to be lodged forever on her elegant finger. She must have a ring no one else would have.

He suddenly dreamed that they would hold a modest wedding at the cottage. Lavender flowers, a small vanilla bean cake, perhaps stuffed with tuna fish. Hilary would walk down carpeted aisle with flowers in her hair, Parisian white lace draping around her body, her protruding belly enlarged with his child. Yet he grew disheartened. He wanted Neil for his best man, but Hilary still had doubts about his father despite reassurances. He wanted Charlie and Maddie as ringbearer and flower girl respectively. Lily would forbid his nephew and niece having a role in one of the happiest upcoming days of his life. If only he could his sister understand...

"Do you have anything in mind?" Mr. Walters asked, invading Devon's inner turmoil. "We have some rare unearthed rubies just shipped in from Italy."

"Hmmmmmmm..."

In his mind's eye, he could draw an intricate design, have sophisticated diamond notes play sweet synchronized melodies. His thoughts swayed to old hands tapping cold ivory piano keys which then warmed into soft, dewy skin of a goddess, queen of his heart. Instead of tapping old beloved musical instrument, caressing body took place, gentle, beguiling caressing that made them both release contented sighs. And that compelled reasoning. He wanted an engagement ring that awed her into infinity.

"Who are you trying to marry?"

Devon turned at the sound of familiar disgruntled voice.

"Mason? What the hell are you doing here?"

Mason leaned his tall, lanky body against door frame, smug and arrogant as ever. He dressed casual- navy blue polo shirt and pressed khakis. Hair cut short and face shaven clean almost made him look brand spanking new.

"I would ask you the same thing and all, but I know billionaires come through this joint like clockwork," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

"Shouldn't you be in jail? In prison for stealing my identity!" Devon blasted.

"I got off on a technicality," Mason snarled, coming inside the jewelry store, eyeing expensive items he couldn't possibly afford.

He came close to Devon and brushed the lapels of Devon's gray Armani jacket.

"Better watch out Pretty Boy. One day I will pay you back for humiliating me. Don't think I will let you get away with that punch."

"There's more where that came from," Devon snapped, pushing back Mason's hands in disdain.

Mason laughed and shook his head.

"As much as a beat down sounds, I think getting you where it hurts the most." He smiled with brute cockiness. "That will be far more amusing to me."

He left.

Devon rolled his eyes and went right back to business.

"I apologize about the scene, Mr. Walters."

"Yes... right."

"Now where were we?"

/

"I want Hilary and Neil to fly to Los Angeles to pitch this new ad campaign this Friday," Jack announced at the board meeting.

"Neil and me?" Hilary gasped, shocked, almost dropping the everything bagel she was busily spreading whipped cream cheese on. Her gaze swung over to Neil. He was smirking, pleased and winking.

"Yes," Jack continued. "The fashion show was a great success thanks to Ashley and Chelsea. But I think you and Neil make a great team too. I think you two have what it takes to wow the Foresters with Ashley's new cosmetics line meant to coordinate with Chelsea's beautiful clothes."

"But Jack, I-"

"No buts."

She gritted and gnashed teeth together, brainstorming ways to get out of a weekend with her boyfriend's father.

Minute meeting adjourned, Hilary stayed back, needing to speak to her boss alone.

"If Chelsea and Ashley could fly back in February, why can't they now?" She asked.

"Ashley is tied up right now and Chelsea is ... well it's complicated."

"Jack, I don't think this is good for the baby. The risks of traveling..." She tried personal situation approach.

"I have that covered," he said, refusing to be strong armed. "Gillian is flying with you to and fro."

"Wow. I've never... Jack, are you sure? I mean..."

"You've gone aboard and beyond for me, Hilary. At least let me do the same for you in return. I know that together you and Neil will blow Forester Creations away."

"I'm glad that you have such high confidence in me."

"Of course. You wouldn't believe how much faith Neil has in you, Hilary. I think he profoundly appreciates you sometimes more than I do."

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes. He just happened to come up with a genius idea that might put a real smile on your face."

She smiled as he walked out. That smile quickly turned into frowning.

"Neil, I know you arranged this," Hilary groaned, barging inside his office.

"I think this is a remarkable opportunity for you, especially with your talents." From his black swivel chair, his gaze swept down her body, inciting nausea.

"I'm in a relationship, Neil." She slammed his door and folded her arms across her chest.

"I know that, Hilary." He stood and came from around his desk, nearing her personal space, dropping his lips near her ear, whispering, "I'm in one of my own, a secret just like yours."

She slit her eyes, hoping that for once he read message loud and clear. Her lips curved in a sly manner.

"Well, I guess this weekend is just me and you... and Gillian."

"Gillian," Neil growled, letting his seething show. "Who's Gillian?"

She turned on her heel and made for the door.

"I see your ex is back in town."

She looked back at Neil, who still looked like he held a full deck.

"What? Who? Mason?"

The news daunted Hilary. Mason? The same Mason gave her everything she needed to know about a family she almost destroyed? What was he doing back in Genoa City? Evening out a score?

Much later, she and Gwen had lunch at Crimson Lights. She hoped food would soothe uncomfortable dilemma. Mason could cause trouble for her and Devon. A lot of trouble.

"What do you think about Chelsea's latest designs?" Gwen asked, sipping iced caramel latte with soy milk hold the whipped cream. "Any chance you'll be catwalking again?"

The fall show was in another few months. By then, Hilary would blow up to epic proportions. She hugged yellow cotton cardigan over expansive olive green dress, imagining how she would tell co-workers she was pregnant by her secret boyfriend.

"Probably not," Hilary replied.

"I wouldn't mind doing it."

She admired Gwen's small, narrow form, hugged by a pink floral dress. No belly. No stress.

"I'm sure Chelsea or Jack would let you model."

Hilary's mind wasn't on boosting Gwen's ego. She flashbacked to London. Horrors came bubbling up, rising. Mason...

"That Devon is something," Gwen admitted.

"What?" Hilary snapped to immediate reality. She quickly set her fork down, realizing that it aimed at Gwen's delicate neck.

"He is handsome and kind. Always smiles at me when he pops by to see his father."

"Yes and?"

"That's it. He has the best smile in the whole universe."

"Yes. He does."

"I saw him at the gym this morning. I think he's in a relationship or at least getting laid."

Hilary almost choked.

"What makes you think that?" She reached for water.

"The love scratches on his back. He must be with a wild hellcat or something. Looked like he came straight from the jungle."

Gwen laughed.

Hilary's brows rose, scandalized and insulted. She fought between blushing and fury. Devon was hers. He didn't mind nails raking his back, digging into strong, hardened flesh. After all, she arrived to work exactly at eight, instead of usual fifteen minutes early, thanks to his wicked ministrations. He deserved her claws. With him knowing her body inside and out, she couldn't control inner lioness assault, taking charge. He caused such tumultuous eruption and payback was a hot bitch.

"You know Gwen, Thomas in marketing likes you."

"He does?"

"How can you not know?"

"Are you trying to keep me from Devon?"

"Huh? Why would you ask me that?"

"You quickly change the subject and your face gets all weird. Are you interested in Neil Winters' billionaire son for yourself?"

"Gwen."

"Word around the office is that you're in a secret relationship anyway."

"So? It's none of anyone's business."

"Well, if you are interested in Devon, I don't think you could. Not after what you did to his family."

"Excuse me?" Hilary slammed used napkin onto finished lunch. One would have thought armored fisticuffs were being displayed.

How did this seemingly nice girl even know Hilary's history with the Winters?

"Look I'm not trying to stir the pot. Devon is a nice guy and all, but he's way out of your league."

They both rose and headed outside to Gwen's red Mazda.

Hilary smiled tightly, wanting to throw her relationship in Gwen's taut face then and there. Miss Moffet had no idea who sat on her strumpet. For Hilary held more venom than a spider.

/

"Neil, I don't think Hilary is the right person," Jack disagreed on Neil's calculated proposition. "She's kind of at a crossroads in her personal life."

"I want her," Neil growled. "She is perfect. You've seen her in meetings. She's brilliant. Smart, beautiful, articulate."

"Yes. She is all those things. I recall your recommendation."

"Let her sell Ashley's makeup. In fact, let her model the line."

"Neil..."

"I'm serious Jack. We should not only pitch this great natural, organic line, we should promote diversity and Hilary's face can be our goldmine. Think about all minorities buying us up."

"Well now. That's a good point."

"Yes."

Jack nodded and slapped Neil on the back, commending his idea. Neil smirked. A weekend with Hilary and the baby problem would be gone.

As for Mason Wilder...

Easy to pay off the sleazebag. All sleazebags wanted money and would sell their demented souls for it. Part one in a quick, expensive scheme, the hungry leech set free to jeopardize puppy love.

"And the worm takes the bait," he said, smiling and raising glass of orange juice to the air.

Neil paid guards, paid dirty scum to get Mason free. He couldn't get the bastard out of probation, but probation was better than jail. Now Mason was set up with a fat bank account and living in a nice hotel- not GCAC, but posh enough to satisfy greed. It came with a hefty price tag.

"I got some serious dirt, Boss," Mason revealed on a burner.

"Spill it," Neil said, eyeing Hilary typing away. He chewed his pen, staring and staring...

"I spied your money bag son buying an engagement ring."

"What?" Neil almost dropped Los Angeles layout he had mapped out in concrete detail.

Marriage! No!

Neil's eyes were tired of sipping them parade around in their home, unprepared for their world to crash. He was thirsty. Bloodthirsty. More than ready to help Hilary pick up the pieces once his son was good and gone. Neil was ready now. The baby plus a wedding would not happen. Not if he had the power to stop it all.

"On for lunch?" Devon asked, knocking on opened door.

"Sure Son, let me sign off on the rest of these papers and off we can go." On his phone, he whispered, "thanks" and smacked it shut.

He and Devon walked towards the elevators. Unfortunately, they physically bumped into returning Hilary and Gwen.

"Excuse me," Devon said, brushing Hilary's hand, touching her mid section longer than necessary.

"Sorry about that," Hilary sighed, breath panty and annoying.

Neil wanted to vomit, shooting daggers into them, biting his inner jaw flesh to keep from lashing out.

"Hilary," Devon greeted.

"Devon hi..." Hilary smiled, pretending to be shy and hesitant.

"Neil," Neil almost said aloud, angered by sudden invisibility.

Hilary took her glued eyes off Devon and gestured towards companion. "You know Gwen right?"

"Yes," he said, shaking Gwen's hand. "Saw you earlier at the gym."

"Nice bumping into you again," Gwen said, flashing a flirtatious smile.

Hilary stared. Neil then had reason to smile, sensing jealousy crackling in the air. Maybe the goofy grinning accountant could be of use. After all, her little crush on his son seemed like great distraction.

"Is the relationship getting serious?" Neil asked, sitting on GCAC's sophisticated leather seats.

"Well, yes," Devon said, joining him. "In fact..."

"Wow." Neil stared at huge, likely overpriced engagement ring, wishing to throw it on the ground and crush it with his black loafer heels. "Just wow."

"I know right? I never thought I would be ready to settle down."

"How can you be? You haven't properly introduced her to the family yet."

"Well... it's just. We're private."

"But don't you think you should fill us in on her, Son? I think this may be rushing things a bit. Six months and marriage?"

"Dad, what we feel for each other is real. Unlike anything I ever experienced."

"Unlike Roxanne?"

"That was different. We shared something special, but what I have with... this is just beautiful, Dad. I'm in love with her."

"Who is this mystery woman? Invite her to dinner with the family before you pop the question."

"Dad..."

"Devon, I insist."

Neil unfolded his napkin, waving at Lily to come over. She just came in dressed in sparkling white sleeveless dress and cherry red high heels.

"Well, look here, Son. There's your sister. Let's share our plans to meet your mystery lady, shall we?"

He loved the uneasy look crossing Devon's face.

/

"What's for dinner?" Devon asked.

"What do I look like Avery Summers or something?" Hilary joked.

Devon laughed. Of course, Hilary could cook, sharing recipes handed down from her maternal family's side.

"I was thinking of this nice little Italian bistro on Tribeca Street." Devon took Hilary's hands. "I think it is the perfect place."

"Really?" Hilary wasn't too keen. A nice romantic restaurant to shatter his world. Devon could survive the weekend without her. Traveling with Neil to Los Angeles almost riled her despite Dr. Gillian coming along. She liked being a behind the scenes guru, still desiring to upstart Hilary Curtis PR Firm. Yet fronting Jabot's latest line tantalized a long buried little girl dream, not withering since walking February's catwalk for the first time.

"Yes," Devon said. "I'm so excited. Aren't you?"

He had a gleam in his eye, a pep in his step.

"Oh, by the way, guess who I saw today?"

"I already know you saw Gwen this morning. At the gym. I bet she was wearing tight clothes, showing off her thin figure."

"Hilary..." He massaged her hands. She closed her eyes, feeling it. "You're the only woman for me. The only one."

"Are you sure? Speak now or hold your peace. I will be a blimp soon."

"You will be the most beautiful pregnant woman on the planet. You're glowing more and more each day. Sometimes it hurts to look at you."

"Okay. Enough prose, Romeo or I will swoon before we eat. And I'm eating for two."

He laughed and shook his head.

"Well, what I meant to say earlier is that I saw Mason."

"Mason?" Hilary broke away and turned her back, shaking. "Where did you see him?"

"At the club."

"Did he... did he say anything to you?"

Devon came close, touching her shoulders, massaging them.

"No. What is it, Baby?"

The doorbell rang.

"Expecting company?" She asked, raising a brow. Apprehension wrapped and cloaked around her, making Devon's comforting touch dissolve. She couldn't feel him anymore. Fear took over, great and frightening, forming a huge barrier.

"No," Devon said, staring at the door. "You?"

She shook her head.

"Do you mind getting it? It's probably a package or something. Let me get the keys and we can head out."

Bell rang again. Intrusive. Rude.

There it came to Hilary. Dread. Strange, inhibited dread crawling up sensitive spine, giving her and Peanut simultaneous heebie jeebies.

"What is it?" He asked, worried and concerned, embracing her. She seemed to have seen a ghost.

"Nothing," she sighed, kissing his lips and breaking free from his strong arms. "Go get the keys and I will get the door."

"Hey! Don't boss me around. Peanut might get ideas."

She laughed, watching him leave.

Core logic shook.

She swallowed, expecting to see Mason behind the door, waiting to blackmail.

Instead someone else stood on the welcome mat, his black-brown doe eyes staring through threshold. His black-brown doe eyes similar to her own.

"Daddy?" She placed quivering hand over her mouth, tears forming and clouding vision, blurring figure, as the gushing wetness cascaded down cheeks and dripped off chin.

"Hello, Ann. Are you going to invite me in?"


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Poisonous Ties

"Why are you here?" Hilary asked, wiping wet cheeks and chin, letting hardened anger take heed. "How did you find me?"

She looked into the stern gaze of her father. He was tall, around a proud six foot. Wrinkles on his weathered, stretched face spoke of trials and tribulations, of exhausted running from countless mistakes. Hair was cut low and professional, lightly sheened. Black mole puckered beside long lashed right eye. He wore a black suit and black shirt and tie, looking as though escaping a rich friend's funeral.

"I have been looking all over for you, my elusive daughter," he said, voice deep and booming like a soft beaten kettledrum. "Nice home you have."

Devon came into the living room, keys in hand, staring quizzically.

"What's going on?" Devon asked.

Hilary put her hands on her father's chest, pushing him further into the shadows. She shut front door.

"We should just eat in," she said, masking distraught, cleaning roughly with yellow sleeve before facing questioning boyfriend.

"Hilary, who was that?"

He came near.

Hesitation arrived and sat inside Hilary's chest, suffocating her.

She hated lying to Devon. Hated keeping things hidden below the surface. They were so open with each other, so free of taint. She lived a splendid dream of having a handsome, charming prince rescue the side of her wanting savior, that side of her wanting a great man. Devon was a great man. Flawed, yes, but great. At least to her. He was the one man championing her, accepting bad parts of her equaling the good. No strings attached. Nagging consciousness coaxed truest trust, to let him inside. Absolutely inside. With Devon, she wouldn't have to lie in toxic memories alone.

"Who do we think we are?" The grating negative crept in and sank spirits, drowning her slow and steady. "Living in some fairy tale cottage knowing full well that the most important members of Genoa City, Devon's beloved family, would never accept your relationship, never accept you into tight, tender cusp of their close-knitted circle."

Hilary was an outcast. And further still, the real truth would further damage them.

She could already imagine the venom Lily would spit at her.

"That was no one," she fibbed. "He just had the wrong house."

Falsehood tasted vile. She could puke in any moment. But she swallowed guilt and touched Devon's strong shoulders, hiding behind glassy smile threatening to crack and shatter into smithereens.

"Well, since we're eating in..." Devon stroked her back and hugged her close. Oh how his love mated with her love, mated in the air, fighting to envelope doubt. She loved him like she never loved another man. She didn't want to destroy its fragile beauty, crush it with something as painful as what she had done with her father.

She knew he wanted to know. He could feel the secret. He must.

Hilary pulled away from his healing tendencies, putting off inevitable task and forced more garbage to spew through mechanically moving lips.

"You know what, I... Peanut and I have a craving."

"What is it? Whatever you need."

Hilary wrote out a list of ingredients that could only be purchased at one store. Far. Far away.

"Okay."

"Thank you."

She wouldn't let him leave just yet, stealing his hands, cupping and rubbing them. Her lips met his, unlocking keys to desire, to once in a lifetime love. Devon's hands swung over around her back, enjoying delicious pleasure, the fruitful wine of her inviting tongue both providing and robbing sustainable breath.

"I love you," she sighed, breaking away.

"I love you," he repeated, stroking her face, hazed from he glow of short ecstasy. "I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay."

Within minutes, she heard Devon's Rolls Royce engine start and drive off. She shrugged turbulent animosity, waiting and waiting.

The knock came.

She whirled the door opened.

"Douglas Turner, why the hell are you here?" She yelled, disheartened spirit seeping into her broken voice. "And I want the truth this time."

"Wow, no more 'Daddy' greetings," he said, tugging too hard on lost little girl strings.

"You haven't earned the title in quite some time," Hilary snapped, refusing to cave.

"Ann, look."

"Hilary. My name is Hilary now. Hilary Curtis."

"Oh yes. That's right. Will you invite me in?"

"That depends."

"On what, Sweetie?"

"Don't call me that. If I let you in, you be straight. No lies."

"Alright. Alright." He held hands as if in a standoff. "I promise no lies."

A distrustful brow raised. She opened door wider and inspected him, wary, hugging cardigan close.

He took in gilded realistic oil paintings lining pistachio green walls and sheer white lace bellowing over floor length golden yellow curtains of modest sized windows. Plush crimson carpet complemented, giving a young couple's home a sense of warmth and comfort. He glanced at cream velvety soft sofa with accented teal and burgundy pillows. Hilary's slim silver Mac notebook and scattered labeled manila folders neat in composition as if too afraid to be complete disarray took oak coffee table precedence. Elaborate bookshelf lined with varied first edition volumes. He walked by rare, expensive books just to pick up silver ornate framed photograph of Hilary and Devon off polished mantle. Beautiful, smiling portrait hovered above dead embers and old ash in the fireplace. Hilary saw the metaphor in that their father/daughter relationship, out of season, out of date. Likely to never blaze again with roaring affection.

"So you've snagged a billionaire, huh? The Chancellor heir?" Douglas asked, eyes covered in shiny dollar signs.

Hilary shook her head and covered her face in opened palms.

Disappointment pulled her thoughts into unforgotten beseeching undertow.

/

Devon wasn't sure what occurred. One minute they were readying for dinner and the next Hilary acted remote, distant. The stranger shook her. He admitted being hurt that she wouldn't confide why, but he would wait. Wait for her to set free.

He flashed back to his father requesting a family gathering. He wished that could happen. Wished it bad. They were the most important people in his life. They deserved truth and honesty and respect. He was tired of dodging them, of living some undercover existence with the woman he loved above all.

Velvet black box seemed to burn a hole in his pocket. He took it out and gazed. Earlier memories came crashing as he paused at the red light. Hating Hilary after discovering what she was about, throwing money in her direction so she would leave town, yelling foul insults, temper tantrums...

When had those sparks turned to passion? Turned into wanting something more than assuaging lust?

Despite his father's warnings, he wanted to go through with asking Hilary to marry him. He loved her. Nothing would change the course of his heart. The compass was made. Set in a beautiful infinity stone. Hilary was the one. Hilary was it.

Proposing over a plate of thirty-five dollar spaghetti sounded nice. He was sure most men did that. Proposed at some fancy expensive eatery or at some famous tourist attraction overseas. Maybe fate suggested getting down on bended knee at their home would make for a more romantic alternative.

"There is nothing wrong with that idea," he mumbled to himself, driving into modest filled parking lot.

His smile returned, but did little to ease sporadic nerves. He wanted to tell Lily and their father. He needed them to know about Hilary. However, he kept picturing the pool incident and how worse it could have been. Sometimes Lily filled his nightmares. She would push Hilary much more violently, blood filling the pool, staining clear water. He would hear Dr. Gillian's voice, "the baby did not make it" repeat over and over.

Of course, he kept these fears silent. He would not voice to Hilary despite being able to tell her anything.

He didn't understand Lily. Cane had pulled horrible stunts. Yet Lily forgave him. Why could she not forgive Hilary? Why could she not see that Hilary had changed? He wished Lily's hatred would melt away, albeit their relationship would be strained. Strained was better than volatile.

"That's asking for too much," he thought. Of course, Lily would forgive Cane. She loved him. She owed Hilary no such kindness or compassion.

He was almost finished at Ralph's Market, grabbing one last item before encountering nemesis again.

"Are you following me?" Devon asked snidely.

"Nope," Mason said, pretending to be interested in cereal boxes. He carried red plastic basket filled with milk cartons, greens, apples, and... condoms.

"I don't need to be seeing you more than once a day," Devon snorted. "In fact, I would like to not be seeing you at all."

"Same here."

"I'm glad that we had this talk."

Devon continued strolling down the aisle.

"Wait," Mason called out.

Devon turned around slowly and arched a brow.

"I don't have the time to play mind games with you, Mason."

"You know, things aren't always so perfect." He picked up Wheaties.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Devon took his hands off the cart and folded them across his chest, not buying Mason's line of unneeded advice.

"Nothing. Just stating facts."

"I can tell you where to shove your facts."

"Listen, I know that you and Hilary are screwing around."

"What?! You have been following me! I will have you arrested for stalking. Not a good look for a known identity thief!"

"Look genius, I saw from the get go that it was only a matter of time before you two started kicking it between the sheets. Spare me the 'how dare you' routine."

"What do you want? Money?"

"Wow. So you really aren't planning to tell your dad, your hot sister? I wonder if she-"

"I don't want to hear another word said about Lily from your dirty, filthy mouth."

"Temper. Temper. Better watch it or you could lose all that money from Grandma Six Feet Under."

Devon balled aggravated fists, dying to give a blow.

"Watch how you talk about my grandmother."

"I just think you better be careful about that serpent in your bed." Mason neared, smirking. "She likes to bite."

Devon had it, pushing him into boxes. Mason laughed and laughed, seeming not phased at all.

Outside, Devon let outside temperature cool off his frustration.

"Devon!" Gwen called.

Oh great, he sighed inwardly. He was anxious to return home. Hilary brightened him. Always.

"Gwen, hi."

"I seem to be having trouble."

He looked over, seeing that a brand new red Mazda refused to start. He lowered his brown paper bagged groceries on the ground.

"Let's open the hood."

Smoke escaped, evaporating into air, coming for lungs intrusion.

He coughed and shut it back quickly, sputtering and holding his chest.

"Oh my gosh Devon are you alright?" Gwen asked, touching him. "I'm so sorry. I will just call a tow. I cannot believe that happened. Bryan was just fine when we got here."

"Bryan," Devon said, finished near collapsing. "Who's Bryan?"

"My car, Silly."

She smiled. He laughed.

"That's weird. Who gives their car a boy's name?"

"A lady whose first boyfriend's name was Bryan."

"Touche." He picked up his groceries. "Well, let me at least give you a ride home."

"Are you sure? It's a little out of the way of the athletic club."

"It's okay."

Gwen gushed about math and science, so Devon figured he would sneak in his favorite subject to keep from dozing off at the wheel.

"How is it like working at Jabot? With Hilary and my dad and everything? They treating you okay?"

"Oh yes. Hilary is a nice girl. Very secretive."

Devon smiled.

"Word around the office is that she's seeing someone."

"Oh. They gossip about her?"

"How can they not? It's obvious how she got the job."

Devon cleared his throat.

"What do you mean by that Gwen? My father recommended her."

"Oh. I didn't realize..."

"Hilary made a lot of mistakes when she came to town. We're all giving her a second chance."

"Not everyone. Lily seems to be on the unforgiving end."

"You've been talking to my sister."

"Yes. Make a turn here on the left."

He turned.

"The thing is Devon, I like Hilary. She is smart and sophisticated. We speak French during lunch. It's just... Lily said some things..."

"Lily is still hurting."

"Right." She then blurted. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Ummmmm..."

"I'm usually cranking numbers, but Jack has given me time off. Apparently it's because Neil and Hilary are going to Los Angeles this weekend and I won't be getting those receipts back until-"

"Wait. Hold up. Did you say Neil and Hilary are going away? To Los Angeles?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"You look upset."

"It's nothing."

"This is it." She grabbed her purse and bag, ready to leave. Instead she looked at him and smiled. "Devon, can I be honest?"

"Yes."

"I really like you. I was hoping..."

Oh great. Devon did not need this. But he expected it.

"Listen, Gwen. You're beautiful and everything, but you're-"

Annoying. Judgmental. Grating...

"You don't like me."

"Gwen-"

"But Neil said." She shook her head and immediately escaped the car. "I can't believe this!"

"What do you mean? What did my father say?"

"He implied that you... oh just forget it. Just forget this ever happened. Thanks for the lift okay."

She took her groceries and ran straight into her apartment building.

Devon's brows furrowed. Why the hell did his father try to set him up with Gwen when he knew Devon was ready to marry Hilary?

/

"First Devon. Now you. Why are you both so secretive about your women these days?" Lily asked, stretching out on Neil's black leather recliner.

"You will meet her in due time," Neil said, daydreaming about Hilary, wondering if deep down inside she thought about him too.

"When?" Lily groaned.

"Granddaddy got a girlfriend! Granddaddy got a girlfriend," Charlie chanted melody, interrupting Neil from spilling concocted untruths. He was close by, sitting on the burnt sienna carpet, slamming large ice cream and fireman trucks into Maddie's Black Barbie dream house.

"Awww, isn't it sweet?" Lily asked, ruffling her son's wild golden brown curls. "Your unseen girlfriend already has a fan."

"I'm a fan too, Mommy!" Maddie squealed, making Black Barbie stomp on Charlie's rampage. "Where is she, Granddaddy?"

"Not here, Sweetie. I do think you will like her as much as I do."

"Really?" Her doting eyes looked up at him, sparkling with pure childish glee.

"Yes."

"Is she pwretty?"

"Yes. Very pwretty."

"Will you guys get married?"

"Enough twenty questions," she scolded Maddie, grinning, rubbing Neil's shoulder. She dropped her voice a notch. "I'm so glad you're getting out there, Dad. So proud of you. Even after Leslie, you found love again."

"Leslie is not the be all, Lily. But this one is."

"Prove it. How about inviting her out to the family barbecue?" Her cell vibrated. "Wait a sec." She checked and read the screen. "This is Cane. He's downstairs."

"He doesn't want to come up?" Neil wanted to bide time, stay seconds longer watching grandchildren play with toys. "Say hello to his father-in-law."

"Don't take this personally but nope!" She kissed his cheek and got up from the couch, waving towards the twins. "C'mon kiddies, Daddy's waiting!"

"Daddy! Daddy!" Charlie and Maddie cried in unison, racing to the door.

"You're not even going to give your Granddaddy a goodbye hug and kiss?"

They came back over, hugging and smothering him with wet kisses.

Charlie and Maddie warmed coldness inside his heart. That warmth breaking through icy coldness showed he wasn't too old to enjoy children, that soon Hilary and he would fill a happy home with them.

After Lily and his grandchildren left, Mason called.

"Part two is on and Rich Boy's on the move."

"Follow him."

Mason tailed him all the way to south side fancy grocery store.

"You wouldn't believe this," Mason revealed. "That pretty little Jabot accountant is here. She's just getting out of her car. What a coincidence!"

"Hmmmm..." Neil stroked his chin, another plot forming in his mind. Earlier after lunch with Devon, laying the pressure down thick for his son to set Hilary marriage proposal aside, he told wolfish tales to Gwen, filling her gullible head with empty promises. Although as he spoke, he wanted them to be real, wanted Devon and Gwen to build a solid foundation together. He could see them moving into that cottage, see Gwen replacing his Hilary in the photographs. He saw it all forming the more he fabricated and invented for Gwen, for complacent, eager to please Gwen. She had licked her lips and allowed Neil to see her bright eyes sparkling like an intern desiring something bigger than themselves, something more than building hours of labor without payoff.

"Is this of interest to you?" Mason asked.

"Yes," Neil answered. "Yes. It is."

"How so?"

"None of your concern. Just fix her car so that she is the damsel to Devon's distress."

It was as though fate perfected situation for him, as if fate knew Hilary would be his. Puzzle pieces were just falling, sliding in without difficulty.

He crossed his legs, stroking bearded chin again, smile covering his face, reflecting on part two. Douglas Turner wanted to be found. A man in dire situation, escaping the law, revealing fear for his lost beloved Ann.

"I know where she is," Neil had said, selling her out over the phone, voice disguised, filling desperate Douglas in.

Thudding knock invaded Neil's glee.

"Son, what brings you by tonight?" Neil asked, not surprised to see his scowling son.

Devon marched right in.

"What is going on?" He asked, unable to hold fury and contempt.

"What do you mean, Son?" Neil sounded concerned, but inside happiness flooded every pore.

"Gwen just tried to put moves on me. I think you know why."

"Yes. She has a crush on you. I thought she should go for it."

And Gwen ate it up- hook, line, and sinker.

"You know I'm serious about getting married," Devon huffed. "This is not some whim. I'm in love."

"You said that you were in love with Roxanne too," Neil reminded him.

"Stop bringing up Roxanne!"

"Calm down. Why are you so upset? I'm sorry about Gwen. I just think you should give her a chance before you tie yourself down. Get to know her. She's intelligent. She's beautiful. Right up your alley."

Devon paced back and forth, agitated.

"Sounds like she would be perfect for you," Devon groaned. He reached into Neil's glass cabinet and picked up a clean crystal. He poured water from the living room decanter and took a long swallow. He acted like water, not alcohol, granted liquid courage. "What's this I hear about Los Angeles?"

Neil hid urge to smirk and wallow in his jealousy.

Now, you know how it feels, Son. The torture, the agony...

"Gwen told you."

"Yes, and not... I mean. Yes. Gwen told me."

"Hilary and I are going to Los Angeles to pitch another idea to Forester."

Neil sat on the couch, coolly watching Devon, wondering if this would be the time he cracked and "revealed" all.

"What does that have to do with Jabot?" Devon asked. "The line is cosmetics right?"

"Yes. And?" Neil's brow rose, expectant, waiting.

Devon sat down beside him, inches apart, worrisome and still agitated.

"I just don't see why you two are doing this. Forester is primarily clothes."

"Son, that's why we're doing this. We want them to branch out."

"I don't think that's the main objective. At least not for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Devon stared at Neil bravely, with confrontation in his eyes.

"It's Hilary, isn't it? You want her."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Origin

"I don't want Hilary," Neil said, staring in Devon's face without flinching.

"Are you sure?" Devon asked.

Devon wasn't perceptible to persuasion. Something wasn't right with his father. He could sense a complex mental anxiety propelling harder perceptual critique. Perhaps breaking up with Leslie provoked inner calm rationale to snap like a vulnerable twig. The space between them on the couch seemed miles instead of familial closeness. Metaphorical imbalance screamed out error in Neil's behavior pattern. This strange, out of place Los Angeles trip meant to slice into Devon's intimate plans, sever more than what appeared to be an innocent business gig.

On top of that, Neil trying to set him up with Gwen incited Devon's fury. It was quite outrageous to scheme another relationship. Hours earlier, Devon had just mentioned a steadfast commitment, sharing marriage proposal plans and newly acquired ring.

What the hell?!

"I feel sorry for Hilary mostly," Neil explained further, stroking thick beard. "I feel empathy. I know I am partly to blame for her behavior, for her spiking my drink. Remember that, Son? She spiked my drink."

"I remember."

"It took me days to get over that taste. That delicious, familiar taste of-"

"I get it. I understand. But you forgave her. You're the reason Jack hired her."

Guilt and compassion took over annoyance.

Devon felt sorry for Neil and hated those moments of temporary disregard. Of course, his forgiving father wanted the best for Hilary, hoping to smother the selfish, conniving side of her for good. Devon had buried her past underneath the brewing aroma of love. She was his sweet caffeinated coffee, getting him through days and nights, sometimes with a smile, a caress. He hadn't forgotten that he once believed her to be a sick toxin. Perhaps that had been reason. Something inside feared drinking in the drugging comforts beautiful women could bring. Hilary wasn't just insanely beautiful.

"Je t'aime plus que tout sur cette terre," she whispered against his firm naked chest, purring slightly like the most content of spoiled felines.

"Hmmmm?" He asked, sitting up and looking down on her, mesmerized by tempestuous accent. She rolled "r's" perfectly.

She smiled and repeated, louder with free spirited passion.

"Je t'aime plus que tout sur cette terre!"

"That sounds so sexy when you say it. What does it mean?"

"I love you more than anything on this earth, Devon."

"Hilary..."

He felt lost, surrendered in her, almost proposing among crumpled sheets and luscious nude skin, but fighting himself. No. It would be far more romantic. Better planned. He sure didn't want to wait to make her his wife. Of that he was certain. They wasted enough time.

Although it simple to initiate making love, to feel their bodies intersect, sweat, and breathe in thunderstruck unison, her softly articulated words struck an inner cord. He would never believe that a woman could feel so strong about him. To be a woman's whole world meant being the reason for being in the universe, for living, for being. She had traveled all over the globe, met men in those journeys. Yet here, right now, in Genoa City, she found yin to her yang in him.

He vowed to spend the rest of his life worthy of her devotion.

"Did you want to hear that in Chinese?" She asked, tickled by his silence.

"I'd rather hear you say, no rather, utter things," he teased, brushing her shoulder, unable to stop grinning.

"You're so devilish!" Hilary laughed, swatting his anxious fingertips.

"What do you expect at one o'clock in the morning?" He pounced on her neck, churlish giggles filling his ears.

Devon swallowed and concentrated on his father. He couldn't baby the older man, but wouldn't desert him. Obviously something bothered Neil.

"Son?" Neil asked.

"Yes?" Devon waffled out of love cloud and focused.

"Where were you?"

"Just thinking. You were saying? About Hilary?"

"Yes, I know I recommended Hilary for Jabot," Neil continued. "For my own redemption. It's selfish, but to me Hilary is a case. A special case. She lost her mother because of me."

Devon's brow rose. Skepticism refused to wither.

"So this L.A. Trip is just a way for you to continue petting her?"

"Simple as that."

Time was escaping him. Hilary and Peanut were likely starving. He didn't want to keep them waiting for him any longer.

"Well, I have to go," Devon said, getting up. "I will see you later okay?"

"Wait," Neil commanded.

Devon turned.

"Why are you so gung ho about Hilary?" Neil's eyes darkened, as though possessed by something unnatural. It quickly evaporated.

"I just... I'm worried about you, Dad," Devon replied, immediately shaken by what he witnessed, what he glimpsed.

He could feel truth suspending in his breath, the secret longing for exposure to the air of his father's luxurious apartment surroundings. But he heard Hilary again. She overpowered him, told him to wait and be patient. They would tell his family together.

"I can take care of myself," Neil sighed.

"I can take care of myself too."

"Yes. I know."

"No more setting me up with other women. Especially Gwen. Okay?"

"Son, again I'm sorry. I just thought that she was good fit for you. That's all. I am not trying to overstep."

His father rose and came close, touching Devon's shoulders with parental sincerity.

"Be careful on this friendship path with Hilary, Son."

"She is not the woman you think she is," Devon declared, passionately revealing emotional sleeves.

"I could say the same to you," Neil warned.

/

May, 2005

Surreal darkness. Complete pitch black darkness shadowed Ann's return home. Lights were off. She turned on red lamp. Warm tumescent cast soft emergence on clean nails tearing open fresh mail.

Small gasp turned into mild shriek.

She read missive on repeat, gushing excitedly over inner chanted words mushing and blurring together.

"Dear Ms. Ann Turner, your exceptional talents and intelligence have immensely impressed the faculty so much that we are pleased to offer you a full scholarship..."

It was her fourth acceptance letter. Yale wanted her. Harvard wanted her. Sarah Lawrence wanted her. But this was the one she wanted more. The one.

Sixteen and a prodigy.

She touched British postmark on thin white envelope, fingered her black lettered name. Earlier doubt drifted away, turning into butterflies fluttering like that of a first crush. She wanted to share the joy with her parents.

Upstairs of their modest house, she crept, hoping to spring on surprise.

Just when she was about to knock on the door,

"Bryan," a women moaned. "Bryan."

"Bryan?" Ann whispered, stopping and backtracking, almost crashing down the steps.

Front door slammed.

In the room, voices shuffled, bodies moved fast.

Ann ran and revealed to her shocked father, tears raining, precipitation weathering happiness. Rose, her good, sweet mother, a woman Ann adored and loved above the world was upstairs embarking in an affair.

Douglas stole something from a drawer and took steps, two at a time, running like a wild beast.

Ann crying and covering face barely registered him, so distraught and torn apart by grand illusion.

A loud cry. Two shots fired. More cries. Silence.

Ann stood, shaking, shivering. She stopped, stilling from abrupt violent sounds. Her heartbeat quickened.

Moments later, front door opened and her mother came in, smiling, holding a vase of flowers.

"Mom?" Ann's eyes widened, horrified by the sight.

Everything sank in.

"Yes, what's wrong, Ann?"

Douglas came down the stairs in a slow motion, walking, coming, blood on his huge hands. Hands that had hugged Ann in times of good times and sorrow. Hands that had pushed her on playground swings. Hands that had held hers on school walks.

So much blood.

Vase crashed to the floor. Shards seeming to crash into pieces before hitting carpet.

"What have you done?" Rose asked looking from husband to daughter.

Like a flurried flash passing by stilted Ann, her mother fled past, her light brown coat flapping out underneath floral skirt like bird wings.

"Mom..." Ann's face fell, shocked and bereft. She had never seen her mother's face so twisted, so contorted. All of its soft, feminine beauty turned to contempt and disappointment.

Lights came on. Bloodcurdling scream, a sonic boom, echoed throughout the house.

Rose dragged Ann into the room.

She saw her sister lying there, brown eyes gazing out at nothing. Dead. Strangled. The man named Bryan beside her still bleeding out, staining their parents beige colored sheets.

Ann shook and shook and shook some more. With at last, clutched envelope feel from fingertips, falling in a feather dance.

Why hadn't they turned on the lights?

/

Payback.

She got even by having sex in their parents bed. That was all.

How could she assume revenge would result in horrific death?

Lydia Amelia Turner always refused to be good. Refused to cooperate. Although smart and talented with Julliard promised future, Lyd cherished rebellious existence more. She had nose pierced at fifteen. Dyed short bobbed hair jet black with blue lightning streaks. Smoked pot and cigarettes early on. Frequented bars and parties. Ran away countless times.

Douglas gave her the ultimatum- them or the streets.

She chose to throw the key and left.

But she looked back.

Ann did not play piano. Douglas and Rose did not dispose the pricey black Bechstein. It was as though they sensed Lyd's natural inclination creep through unlocked windows, breaking in to play in concertos not typically orchestrated at a friend's house. On a random evening to attend a benefit, parents gone. Kicked out Lyd snuck back inside and played, thinking herself alone.

From shadows Ann watched, riveted.

Lyd's black nailed fingers hit keys blindly yet with purposeful instinctual intuitiveness. Grungy head would tilt and long lashed lids fell to closed surrender, seduced by created rhymes.

To anyone else, she seemed out of place- a rock and roll influenced black girl challenging Tchaikovsky.

"You're a genius," Ann sighed, showing herself, clapping her hands and shouting, "bravo!" Precocious eleven-year-old swooned over her older sister's piano solo.

Lyd jumped, scared out of her wits. That fear transformed into sour bitterness.

"This is easy shit," she said, belittling enthusiastic worship, removing herself from bench, retaining usual hard outer shell. "I'd rather be doing something else."

She ran up the carpeted stairs and Ann followed.

"Like what?" Ann cherished Lyd's dreams, so unlike whimsical fairy tale stories. They were much more real and should have been attainable.

"I wanna start up a band, play guitar, become a rock star. Be on the cover of Rolling Stone."

Lyd opened bedroom door. Still the same. She probably thought their parents would rip apart taped Nirvana posters and remove painted black wooden dresser drawer, and paint her eggplant walls the softest feminine shade of pink.

It was then, Lyd opened and pulled out a purple guitar from underneath dirty cluttered clothes in her closet.

"See this? Mom and Dad would hate it."

"It's so cool!" Ann reached, but Lyd pushed small hands away.

"Nope. I saved up three paychecks for this."

"Why didn't you just ask-"

"No. When you want something, Ann, you work for it. Don't ask for a handout. Especially from those two."

She didn't understand Lyd's dislike. Figured it must a teenager thing.

"They want me to be a pianist," she snorted. "They want you to be something else. You know you wanna dance."

"Yes."

"So why not?"

Ann looked at the guitar, concentrating, hypnotized by symbolization. Refusal of being unfulfilled parental illusions, of being something more than two pairs of genes flowing between veins. The guitar was Lydia's truest desire.

And their parents would hate this route. Like they hated many of Lyd's other hotheaded pursuits.

"How did you learn to play it?"

"Practice."

/

After Lyd's death, her mother succumbed to alcohol.

As for her father- he lost everything. His influence, his job, his money.

/

"You do understand that our school is clean, untainted by such high profile scandal."

"I understand. That's why I called."

"You understand that we cannot accept you?"

"You can and you will."

"Ms. Turner, you neglect to understand that we know about your father, about your family."

"I'm not Ann Turner any longer. I'm Hilary Curtis and I will be attending full scholarship intact by any means necessary."

Hilary snapped cellphone closed, standing in sight of London's pristine college campus, one suitcase in hand.

/

July 2012

"You knew your father had a jealousy streak, a temper," Rose sighed, twirling clear glass of iced water. "Ann that could have been me."

"I know," Hilary said, staring at her mother's drink, hoping it would help relieve alcoholism. Rose looked as though she wanted it to be vodka, wished for it to be vodka. "I'm so sorry about that night if I had known..."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is, Mom. I am to blame. I knew Dad loved you, loved you so much, blinded so much by that love, he would do anything to protect it."

They hadn't seen each other in years. She knew from Rose's friend, Valerie that Rose entered rehab facilities and attended AA meetings on the regular, trying to kick harmful alcohol habit. It was then Hilary realized that before Lyd's death, Rose had been struggling for years. Under the facade of the proud lawyer's wife, she seemed too happy, too eager to please Douglas's friends. Lyd and Hilary would sit on the stairs watching lavish dinner parties, in flannel pajamas, watching their mother. Always drinking sparkling apple juice, dodging pregnancy questions, staring not at expectant faces, but their crystal glass flutes of endless supplied champagne.

"She wants it so bad," Lyd had muttered once.

"What?" Hilary asked, her loud whisper almost giving them away.

"Nothing. You'll see when you're older."

Hilary regretted not being a smart enough child to see her mom's internal struggle or her father's demeaning tactics. At thirteen, Lyd already knew.

"That is not love, Honey," Rose admitted, looking away from dreaming about vodka to her daughter's array of library books.

Her mother was in ageless limbo. Smooth, unwrinkled skin, lively vivacious cheeks, full raisin lips and long black hair gave off mysterious youthfulness. Suppressed in a black drab coat negated to remove since entering Hilary's small London flat and downcast sienna eyes rendered a tragic figure suspended in melancholy existence. She had the legs and calves of a teenage girl, brown and limber, low black heels supporting facts.

Hilary hoped she planned to stay in London for long.

"What is it then?" Hilary asked, growing curious about her father, the man she thought he was. So dutiful, so eager to charm Hilary- no Ann if she aced tests. She would be spoiled with the sweetest plump green grapes or imported Trinidad chocolate (her favorite treat), past curfew tire swing pushes, a new stuffed animal with a pink or purple bow around fluffy neck, infinite hugs and cheek kisses...

"Insanity." Rose stuck a pin in Hilary's treasured childhood.

"Mom... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry... About Bryan."

She couldn't bring herself to think about her older sister. The girl she had wanted to best. Hilary saw now that she became more and more poised and dutiful as Lyd continued breaking rules and punching docile behavior to the teeth. She loved Lyd so much, but wanted her parents' respect and honor more. Straight after Lyd's death, regret used to be constant fixture, a constant friend to solace. She should have been a better sister, should have realized that a sister's loyalty was a loyalty above anything, even a parent's misplaced affection.

"There's something I have to tell you." Rose licked her lips and her aged eyes grew somber. "A reason for your father's anger, his possessiveness, his constant punishment."

"What?" Hilary asked, realizing that those hosted dinner parties were just a small part of her father's malice.

Drum beats played.

Rose grabbed Hilary's hands, eyes filling with sadness that seemed to touch Hilary's breaking heart.

Hilary knew it would be detrimental, change the course of her life forever.

"Lydia wasn't his biological daughter."

Hilary almost spat out her tea. Eyes raised and stared at her mother, betrayed, outraged.

Her father had been right to be mistrustful all this time...

"Lydia lashed out because she found out. She hated me for lying and your father well... she always knew he didn't truly love her. Like he did you."

"Mom..." Hilary's eyes watered, mourning again for her lost sister, her death reopening and being reprocessed into something more than what had been presented. The bow had seemed too neat, too tied together.

Maybe Douglas Turner had meant to murder Lyd after all and that had been perfect opportunity.

Yet why would he risk it all? Why not hire someone? He could have afforded it then.

Hilary wrested from her mother and rose out of her velvet chair.

"How could you do this to Dad? How could you cheat on him?"

Rose sank back as though struck by Hilary's raised anger.

"Gus is a good man. You would like him."

"Better than Dad?"

"He doesn't get jealous or possessive."

"Where is he? Where is this Gus?"

"In prison."

Hilary turned away, disgusted, unable to look at her mother again.

"For what?"

"See, he was wrongfully accused, unlike your father."

"For what?"

"For apparently killing his wife in cold blood."

/

Present

Lyd had influenced Hilary. Her sister's insubordinate streak came bubbling through the surface, birthing out of mourning tragedy. She came to Genoa City with guns blazing, armed and aimed at the Winters, ready to deliver endless supply of hell and mayhem.

Oh how quick things changed. Anger softened to unexpected love. With a baby on the way.

She looked at the desecrated shell of her father who lost so much. Despite neat, clean cut exterior, she knew his insides were rotten to the core.

"I never did get to thank you for helping me escape," Douglas said, putting photograph back on the mantle.

"You blackmailed me," Hilary recalled.

"I couldn't survive in jail. You know that." He stood near, accessing her."How's Mason doing these days? Your helper in crime."

"As you can see Mason and I are no longer involved."

"Seriously? I liked him. He had spunk."

"Why are you here? You promised no lies."

"Did you tell your boyfriend about her?" He asked, dodging her question with a daring one of his own. "About your jealousy issues? About how those jealousy issues led to her murder?"

"Stop it!" Hilary yelled, holding head in hands. Massages to temple and stray hairs did little to remove sudden hurting. "Just stop!"

"No. I won't stop. You are responsible for me losing everything, Ann. Everything."

Red and green sirens flashed and flashed. The cops had arrested him that night. They slapped silver cuffs on his wrists, reading him Miranda rights she only heard partly on television. Paramedics flooded downstairs in slow motion, body bags on stretchers, blood on their gloves, on their clothes. Rose started babbling nonsense, pouring scotch, pleading to them not to take Lyd away, that she belonged with them. That she was alive. Not gone. Not gone.

"Not gone," Rose sobbed onto the carpet, repeating herself over and over between scotch gulps.

She had black-outed that memory, shunned its shame and horror.

"I am not Ann," she spoke softly, retreating to the now.

"Yes, you are," her father said, sounding so mocking, so belittling. "You will always be Ann Turner. The girl who killed her sister, killed her mother."

She slapped his face. Hard.

Anger and scorn came burning and sizzling. That memory of last conversation in the cafe, the dying agony her mother faced trying to be clean, trying to be sober, the abandoned promise to be in the audience at Hilary's MFA graduation and not being able to attend because she was already dead. Dead. Dead and buried way before time allowed Rose and Hilary true mend.

Douglas held cheek, knitting brows and twisting lips. He looked rather terrifying.

"You were supposed to be the good one!" he snapped.

"You pulled the trigger!" Hilary yelled. "Not me."

"You might as well have."

"Mom never loved you. She despised you."

His lips snarled further, making him uglier. Fists balled at his sides.

"If you weren't my daughter..."

"But that's right, Douglas. You're not my father. Not anymore. Get the hell out of my house."

"This isn't over."

"It is over."

She collapsed on the sofa, clutched teal pillow to her chest, letting sobs take over. Recollections continued suffocating her mind, taking advantage of vulnerability.

Devon came in, dropped grocery bags to the floor, and just held her. Held her until sobs subsided into sleep.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Viva Los Angeles

Their air conditioned master bedroom was a warm mixture of lavender, gold, and soft blue. Larger than king sized, their handcrafted bed with long cherry wood posts and frame, coordinating with tall gold knob drawers and half moon shaped mirror, held a firm, feathery mattress covered in gold pillows and cool lavender sheets. Walls were painted soft blue highlighting beautiful gold curtains and lavender overlay. Hilary's shoe closet was painted a demure rosy pink while Devon's closet of tailored shirts and suit jackets was that soft blue shade.

"You should have told me sooner," Devon sighed, in this intimate space, watching Hilary tuck clothes inside a small teal suitcase decorated with curled green vines and art noveau styled red roses.

"I was going to tell you last night," she said.

Hilary had hoped morning would never come, that nightmares of Lyd hadn't destroyed what she had worked so hard on forgetting. Now it all came roaring back. Thanks to her estranged father's reappearance. She still had no idea how he found her or what he was doing in Genoa City. She knew he would make an eventual return and demand things as he had done back home, back in London. He rarely sought her out in fatherly concern, which of course deepened the scars he burned in her heart.

Yet, she found a man's love regardless- Devon's. Countless secrets ached to be told and not kept. He cherished and respected her. Went above and beyond for her. He deserved full truth and honesty. She was sure they would get married someday, create a real, stable life for their growing family. The past, which happened in a chain of unfortunate misery, couldn't be imprisoned for the sake of sparing him.

She paused in holding a folded indigo tank top, taking a moment to stroke her swelling rounded abdomen.

"Speaking of which, what happened?" Devon broke into her thoughts, asking tough questions. "Why were you so upset?"

"My hormones are just jumping up and down as if on a trampoline," she fibbed.

"That's it?"

"Yes, Devon. I am okay."

She zipped up the suitcase and touched Devon's face and bald head, looking straight into his eyes of roasted cacao beans. They gingerly reflected all the love and trust garnered for her, no sprinkled peppers of doubt to be seen.

The clock's thick red numbers behind him read 7:01 AM. The drive to work from the cottage was almost half an hour.

"We do not have time," Devon murmured, smiling, already undoing two buttons of navy blue polo.

"We will make time," she said. "Take off your clothes. Now."

Hilary arrived at Jabot in the nick of eight. In the bathroom, she found herself humming happy tunes while still blotting sweat sheen. She felt no amount of shame over their quick erotic session, after all it would be three days away from home in a hotel bed- alone. They had never tested being apart so long before.

"Well well well," Mason said, coming off the elevator, face to face with Hilary emerging out of the ladies room.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in haughtiest of huffs, pulling him into an abandoned corner.

"Thought I could ask Jack a favor," Mason replied, all snide and arrogant.

"You left Jabot on unfriendly terms."

"I received an anonymous tip that they were looking for a new associate."

"And you thought you, a convicted felon, could fit the description?"

"Yes. And I am no longer on record as a convicted felon. Clean as a whistle."

"I doubt it."

"Come now. I thought you would be proud."

"You thought wrong."

He smirked.

"You wasted no time ratting me out. Was that your plan? Get me out of the picture so you could work your wiles on the billionaire? Because that one million dollar offering wasn't enough huh? You wanted to worm your way into his bed to get an even bigger payday-"

Hilary's palm backhanded him so hard he almost collapsed on his feet.

"How dare you insinuate what my relationship is! You have no idea."

"I know plenty. I know how you operate. I remember London very well. Did you tell him about it yet? About your blackmailing murderer of a daddy? That trait must run in the family."

He whispered the last question rather nastily, igniting the annoying rise in her.

She was sick and tired of the past catching up to bite. Her happiness would not be sacrificed.

"No," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Should I?" He asked, too amused for her liking.

"No. I will tell him when I am ready."

"When will that be? When you're all settled in as his wifey and ready to walk out with half his assets?"

"It's not like that. What we have- Devon and I- it's real."

"Not like us."

"We had good times together, Mason. I will not deny that."

"Oh what's this? A little hallway soiree?" Gwen interrupted.

"No.. this... this is nothing," Hilary said, wondering how she didn't hear Gwen's pink pumps approach.

She looked to Mason and Gwen, sensing a noticeable spark between her ex and the bubbly accountant.

"Nothing huh?" Mason slit his eyes, scuffed, and walked off in the direction of Jack's closed office.

"What was that all about?" Gwen asked, put off by brisk exit. She held light green and bright orange file folders to crisp powder blue Ann Taylor blazer that matched A-line pencil skirt.

"Nothing," Hilary bemoaned, eyeing Jack's office with mild worry. "Just the biggest mistake of my life."

"Are we still on for lunch before you fly out tonight?"

"Yes. Sure."

"Great! And by the way that mistake of yours is hot. What's his name?"

"Mason Wilder, former model and forever con artist."

"I'm sure he isn't the worst thing that ever happened in your life, Hilary."

/

At GCAC, after long hours at the posh office he didn't need to be in, Devon twirled the ice in his evening mojito, a drink Hilary introduced prior to pregnancy. He remembered with a clear mind early morning's glittery intent in Hilary's beautiful doe eyes. She had been demanding few times in the past, her libido matching his tit for tat, but this time seemed so different, so intent. She would be gone three days, but she acted like those three days equaled a lifetime.

He rubbed his chin, where a goatee was slowly growing in, reveling in timed quick thrusts and wet tongue joined kisses, frantic hands beginning and ending on pliant naked skin, wishing never to break free from such a strong obsessive hold. It wasn't a crazy, deranged obsessiveness. It was love at its purest entity, mesmerizing beauty that took over his thoughts as though belonging forever. He and Hilary were destined for each other forever, for infinity. Each day and night spent in their sweet little home cemented the fact that he could see himself with no one else but her. His one and only true love.

"I got this for you," he said. "Just something to remember me by on your trip."

"Devon," she gasped, frantically putting on clothes. "You know how I feel about you spending money on me."

"I wanted to."

He stepped up to her, shirtless, clad in black boxers, taking the long box from a eggplant bag. The engagement ring box left inside gazed at him, begged him to ask the question there in the moment perfumed with a mild afterglow they had no time for. He held back and concentrated on just the necklace.

"Open it," he told her.

She flushed, all golden and resplendent glow of a loving, expectant mother, renewing an ardor that never took rest.

"Devon," she breathed, seeing a thin golden chain with a fine crafted pendant laying on soft velvet. "It's so beautiful."

"You like it?"

"I love it!" She hugged him close and he wanted to give back fully, but the clock read 7:34.

"Let me put it on you," he said, regrettably breaking free.

She turned around for him and exposed her nape, her illuminating fragrance and skin torturing him. Oh how he hated Jack Abbot every morning. He touched her with one finger and she let out a small sigh. He could already imagine her eyes falling closed, wanting more than a necklace around her throat. It was all he could give her, taking a moment to clasp and smell her all at once.

However, it would take a while for the pain of excited high heels crunched against his bare spine to heal...

"What has you so glum?" Lily asked suddenly, catching him off guard.

"I'm not glum," Devon denied, recovering from jumping out of his skin.

"You seem glum to me," Lily said. She set shiny yellow clutch, matching her knee length sun dress, on the fine white linen tablecloth and took seat beside him. "Cane is meeting me here. I think we should join you."

"I don't need a pity party."

He didn't mind his brother-in-law's company. Perhaps the Aussie could aide him in the right direction.

"We're going to provide you cheer anyway," Lily exclaimed, smiling and patting his back. "Now fess up."

Devon hid a wince and realized there was no point arguing with his insistent sister. Sister and co-worker.

He had bought the Genoa City Athletic Club on a whim due to her joking insistence that he buy the place.

And that wasn't all he planned to invest his inheritance in.

"My girlfriend left me," Devon sighed, struck by the thought of coming home to an emptiness. He was thinking perhaps he could use his private suite residence all weekend. The thought of smelling and feeling Hilary at their cottage without having her nearby hit vulnerable chords he hadn't realized possible.

"You guys broke up?" Lily asked, arching a brow, sipping iced water from the glass a waitress just sent her. "I thought that this was the real deal."

"No," Devon burst her joyous bubble. "We didn't break up. She left me for the weekend. Work related."

"Are you sure it was work related?" Manicured lilac fingernails mimicked quotation marks on "work related."

"Of course it was about work. She wouldn't cheat on me."

"How well do you even know her? It's been five months right?"

At that moment Cane entered the establishment and Lily waved him over.

"It's complicated, but I trust her," Devon stated firmly, giving Cane a greeting nod. "Completely."

"Hello Sweetheart."Cane kissed Lily's cheek. "Devon."

"What's up man?" Devon asked.

"The numbers are improving."

"Good. Good."

"His whittle girlfriend left him," Lily said with mock sadness, fingers at her eyes where no tears came down.

"Did she?" Cane looked surprised, sitting down and taking an awaiting maroon and black menu- a new addition Lily herself had someone personally design to make GCAC look less "old boy's club."

"It's not in the way that you think," Devon groaned, slitting eyes at his playful sister. "She is on a business trip. That's all."

"Oh pooh!" Lily said, swatting Devon's shoulder. "I was only kidding. It's just a shame though."

"What is?" Devon wondered.

"No, no, Lily," Cane interrupted shaking his head at her.

"What?" Devon's eyes shifted to and fro between them.

"It's just I think Gwen, the accountant at Jabot is perfect for you," Lily revealed.

"What?!" Devon almost choked on his mojito.

"I talk to her a lot. She's beautiful. Smart. Not a model."

"You think I'm dating a model?"

"No. I'm just saying..."

"Look Lily, I know you and Dad mean well, but my personal life is my personal life. I don't need anyone to justify who I'm dating right now."

"At least with Gwen you wouldn't have to hide."

"Lily!" Cane and Devon screeched simultaneously.

"Devon, c'mon. Just tell us who your girlfriend is already."

"It's just that-" Devon started, struggling to find words with Lily and Cane concentrating hard on him.

Lily's cell phone rang. She opened up her purse and dug for it.

"Excuse me guys," she said, rising up from her seat. "I have to take this."

"Who is it Sweetheart?" Cane asked.

"The babysitter."

"If Charlie and Maddie are causing trouble..."

"Don't worry, it'll be Mommy to the rescue."

She kissed Cane's cheek.

Devon watched, bitter sting of envy erupted, much unwanted.

Right now Hilary was already in the skies with Dr. Gillian and his father.

He wanted her here with him, out in the open. The agony constantly followed him around, baiting him to spring into action, to tell the whole town, show the whole world that he loved Hilary Curtis and planned to spend eternity loving her. How could he go on having met his soulmate and wanting to celebrate with those he loved most? It was high time to set nightmarish thoughts to rest and face whatever consequences existed for them.

"You cannot keep this in," Cane said, reading Devon's mind. "I can see it eating away at you."

"I know," Devon sighed. "I almost told Neil last night."

"What stopped you?"

"Hilary. I promised her we would do it together."

"She's pregnant."

"What?"

"Five months along."

"You two cannot keep this up."

"I know. I'm ready to tell the whole world."

"But Hilary's not?"

"That's just it. I'm not sure what she wants us to do."

/

Claws dug into muscled brown flesh.

She gasped.

He grunted and collapsed into champagne hotel sheets.

"That was... whew!" Mason wiped his moist brow and gazed at the ceiling.

"Awesome," Gwen exclaimed. "Mmmmmhmmmm," she sighed, stroking his chest, bating golden eyes at him. "You are a great distraction."

"I try." He stood up and pulled pants back on. "Now the weekend is all yours. I'm sure you can do something to get her out of Devon's system while she's away."

"I can come up with a few scenarios. Each one more naked than the last. The coy girl routine is not working."

"A long time ago it would have. You have to step it up. Devon believes himself to be in love."

"With that skank? Ugh!"

"Tell me about it."

"You still care about her don't you?"

"Hilary is not like other girls."

"Pssssh," she snorted, soured and rolling eyes. "It was her fault that trigger happy of a father of hers killed my fiance. I could care less about any man feeling sympathy for that."

"If I do recall," he turned to look at her while buttoning up short-sleeved denim Calvin Klein shirt, "your fiance was a cheater."

"You have no idea who Bryan was or what he was even doing there that night. So let's not go there."

His brow rose. He quickly got out of bed and glanced at his fat Rolex.

"Well, I have to get going."

"What does your anonymous boss want you to do now?"

"Get rid of the baby."

"Serves her right."

Gwen's eyes lit up like a gleeful Medusa ready to stone a man's face.

It should have bothered him. His consciousness warned him about signing contracts with the devil, the moral compass slowly becoming a choking albatross each time Neil coerced him into sinister tasks. This alternative beat the prison system. Easily, manipulative devil side won the battle. He couldn't resist the glorious opportunity, the alluring victorious promise. His jealousy fueled championing the lucrative idea of breaking up Hilary and Devon by any means necessary.

He retrieved a vial from the polished nightstand, a tiny special vial filled to the top with a dark purple almost black liquid. Hilary would drink this poison comprised of crushed street market morning after pills and other baby killer toxins.

"She and money bags are getting exactly what's coming to them!" Mason exclaimed, pocketing the vial and reveling in Gwen's smile that seemed to toast to a future of twisted revenge.

"Oh yes!" Gwen squealed. "Justice at last!"

/

"You have it?" Neil asked, looking through his office door to make sure coast was clear. No one was around. Packed black leather suitcase sat on his desk, ready for the flight to Los Angeles, first stage of an elaborate hope to win Hilary over.

"Yes," Mason said, showing off the vial.

"Good." Neil emerged close to his young accomplice, tucking first class plane tickets into Mason's shirt, smiling all the while.

Plans were going to work out well in Neil's favor. Lord knew he spent quite enough cash to reach this desperate point. Hilary was blind. On their trip, she would see so clear without Devon's constant interference, away from that imprisoning cottage his greedy, selfish son trapped her in. Neil would make Hilary feel like a freed bird, flying high in the suspended glee of hot sun, palm trees, and a Forester/Jabot cosmetics modeling contract.

"Your plane leaves soon," Neil reminded Mason. "Don't screw this up, Son. I'm counting on you."

"Oh I won't!" Mason was too pleased, too excited- much needed traits. "Thanks Neil."

"Just do your part and everything will work out well."

Mason scurried out with likely visions Don Perigon and Cristol bottles and caviar on his mind. Neil only hoped the reckless splurging criminal kept focus on tasks at hand. Things couldn't become messy if his lackey were a drunken foolish idiot.

"Well?" Douglas Turner entered, seeming to wait until his daughter's ex left. "That means killing my grandchild is still right on schedule?"

Neil came around him to shut the door.

"Listen Douglas when Hilary and I are eventually together and married, I vow to you that there will be plenty more."

"I hate this plan."

"I thought you wanted to avenge what she has done to you."

"This rewards you more than it does me, Mr. Winters."

"Can you come up with a better scheme?" Neil picked up his packed suitcase and looked at his watch.

"Maybe."

"If it involves taking that crazy woman out of the mental hospital, then you will have a lot more fish to fry where your daughter is concerned."

"How did you know about-"

"I do my homework, Doug." Neil grinned, touching the older man's shoulder. "Now if you think to step on my turf and ruin my plans, there will be hell to pay. Now I consider myself a nice man. So don't get on my dark side."

"I have a dark side too if you recall."

"Oh yes, murder." Neil chuckled. "I'm not scared of you."

"You think paying me will keep me quiet huh? I need more than money and more than threats to assure loyalty."

"Doug. Look. You have my guarantee on everything that we will get everything we want. I will not tell Hilary what you're doing and you will do the same for me."

At the airport, Hilary stared at him, accusing him before speaking.

"Where is Gillian?" She snapped.

"Oh, she won't be flying with us," Neil replied, signaling for the pilot to take off. "She will meet us tomorrow."

"I will call Jack. No way am I staying here with you. Alone."

He touched her hand, steeling her with his eyes.

The private plane lifted into the air.

"Why are you so afraid to be alone with me, Hilary? I don't bite."

"I need to be at home. Safe and away from the likes of you."

"What have I ever done to make you feel that way? I got you this job, remember?"

Hilary pursed matte red lips and furrowed perfectly penciled brows.

Neil thought it a hot riot when she let anger show. She ignited his desires even more.

"I was waiting for you to put my employment above my head. I knew it! You sure tried to pull the wool over my eyes, testing your time to strike. What do you want? To blackmail me?"

"No Hilary. I just think we could be affable towards one another, be employees that enjoy working together. I don't see why that should be challenging. No one is trying to blackmail you, Sweetheart."

"Fine."

"Don't sound so harsh."

Much later, after rousing Hilary awake, Neil and Hilary stepped off the private jet and took a shuttle to the hotel. Neil continued watching her when she wasn't paying attention, his body stiffened and aching since watching her sleep for hours, beguiled by alluring dewy collarbone and rise of full, moist breasts threatening to escape confines of emerald green blouse. Fullness of motherhood astounded him, birthing daydreams of their children. His growing need, quiet and pulsing, lessened just a bit when her lips called Devon's name out, singing his moniker like a lovebird's serenade. Neil hoped that would be the last time her "secret boyfriend" would be mentioned.

In the shuttle, she was still exhausted, but kept her eyes focused on the window, touching some necklace on her throat.

"Just one more thing to get rid of," Neil thought nastily, watching gold polished fingernails hovering to jewel and belly.

At the Westin, the sweet front desk clerk told him the magical words.

"There is only one room?" Hilary screamed, not feeling under the spell yet.

"Well, I see no problem with that," Neil said.

She looked at him with the devil blazing in her eyes.

"What?" He said, chuckling. "The room has a couch too. I will sleep on that."

As they walked up to the elevators, the front desk clerk winked at him and he grinned in return.

"You get some sleep okay," Neil told her, letting her in the elevator with the luggage cart. "You need some sleep."

"Yes, you're right," Hilary sighed, yawning, definitely in no mood to argue anymore.

"And trust me, sleep is important, especially in your case."

"What case?"

"I already know."

"Know what?"

"That you're pregnant, Hilary."

The elevator doors shut on her shocked expression.

He grinned, walking away to give the front desk clerk exactly what she wanted.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Interlopers

The loud doorbell buzz woke Hilary with swift, unexpected alertness.

It was one thing to open up the hotel room to find a young bellhop standing. Another to see that same bellhop standing near a splendid morning cart- a delivered lavish only a luxuriously rich someone could afford. Fragrant vanilla orchids and fresh cut pink roses made a fine bouquet resting beside the hotel's signature hot chocolate inside of her favorite oversized mug- "Black is Beautiful.

Hilary wheeled in delightful mystery breakfast and tipped the bellhop.

Then alone, happily without strange "Let's Be Chums" Neil around, she unveiled marvelous surprise. Plump opened figs, sweet sectioned oranges, and golden scrambled eggs mixed with savory green onion and juicy sausage pieces lavishly took up sterling silver tray's elegant residence. The lavender card, scented in her not-so-secret admirer's cologne, simply read, "I love you always in all ways, D."

Hilary wished he had been behind the door too. After all, it was the first time in months that she hadn't fallen asleep spooned in the gratifying stimulation of his strong, comforting arms or greeted by morning light filtering through, shining on a lion tattoo. The rather exhausting flight with bad company seemed to make dozing off easy, but she would have much preferred her Devon.

Her Devon...

Still, nothing diminished such early morning giddiness.

"Look here, Peanut, your daddy plans to spoil us forever," Hilary chirped in singsong joy, feeling like a bird flying in redolent air birthed from splendors of piercing romantic love.

She wrapped white terry cloth robe tighter and sat on upturned sheets of massive bed, ravenous and excited.

"I much prefer you," she groaned into her cell phone call, hiding her content at being catered, wiping her mouth with a pristine white napkin after eating crunchy olive oil and crushed avocado toast.

"Well, we can't always get what we want for breakfast," Devon teased, mocking her playful irritation.

"Hmmmph! I never!"

He laughed, tickling her sensitive ear.

She smiled, letting one hand rest and cradle rounded abdomen, wishing he were closer to feel what their Valentine's poignancy had created.

"Thank you," she sighed.

"You're welcome, Beautiful," he whispered. "I love spoiling you."

"I just told Peanut to prepare for your behavior."

His chuckled intensified butterflies within. Oh how she loved him so...

"How are things going with my father? You two getting along?"

"Mmmmhm, I guess we've been cordial. I agreed to let bygones be bygones."

"That's good. I know you are skeptical of him, Baby, but my father is one of the finest men I know."

Gnawing doubt feathered against her strong guard. Something wasn't right. Yet she didn't want to hurt Devon's love for Neil. Her trust radar had been shooting red flags since he delivered his parting remark in the night.

"Apparently Jack told Neil about my pregnancy," she groaned.

"What?" Devon couldn't hide astonishment. "That's insane. I thought you told him to keep it confidential."

"Well, I certainly implied that."

"I guess that means-"

"No. Not yet."

"When Hilary?"

"When the time is right Devon. We will tell your family together when the timing is right."

"Alright," he sighed.

"I like that we have this secret that only we alone know. That's what makes us so special."

"That we're a secret couple hiding out?"

"No. That we're in love. When two people are invested in a private feeling that they share together, it's an experience that is paramount to all things. It's a feeling so rare, so beautiful that some people go a lifetime without ever having that special intimacy with anyone. What we have is real, Devon. Real and private. I understand that you want to shout it from the rooftops, to everyone in the whole world, but let's just keep it us for a little while longer. Let's revel in what we have created."

Deadening silence stilted the air with friction and static.

"Devon?" She called out. "Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'm here."

"You got quiet."

"It's just... those were the most uplifting words a woman has ever said to me, Hilary Curtis. My heart bursts at hearing you describe our relationship in that way. I cannot help feeling the same. I love you so much. So so much."

"It's true. And I love you more Devon. You're it for me."

"God. There's no woman on earth like you."

She almost swooned, hearing the pleasure and pride coating his gentle voice. He always aroused her neverending ardor.

"I have to go, Sweetheart," Devon groaned. "but three things."

"Yes?"

"Think about me every second."

"Already done! What else?"

"I hope you have a good meeting this morning. Make it nice and win that account."

"Of course. And lastly?"

"The sooner you finish- the sooner you can come home!"

She laughed and laughed, warmed and flattered.

Much later, changed into a v-neck emerald green dress and crisp, black blazer, her new necklace being sole jeweled accessory, she walked smartly in Stella McCartney mahogany kitten heels.

Forrester Creations had nothing on her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Curtis," Rick Forrester greeted and stood, leaning down to kiss her cheek. His tawny blond bearded face, trimmed haircut, and bright baby blue eyes were handsome attributes. And his finely tailored Prussian blue suit fit him snugly.

Still, her boyfriend had it down pact when it came to form-fitting designer suits.

"Nice to see you again," Hilary said, nodding her head. "Hello Mrs. Forrester."

"Oh please call me Maya," Maya commanded, also rising to shake Hilary's hand. Maya's ivory black curls were up in an elegantly composed chignon and knee length sunshine yellow dress complimented her radiant light brown complexion.

"Congratulations on your nuptials." Hilary sat, staring around the muted earth tones of the polished boardroom. Framed original watercolor fashion drawings lined the walls with scrawled autographed "Forrester" in the corners.

"Thank you," Maya beamed, touching her husband with affection and possessiveness.

Hilary couldn't wait to have public display with her Devon. Yes. He was hers. And she was for no shadow of doubt his.

"I thought you and Mr. Winters would arrive together," Maya said.

"I didn't see him at all this morning," Hilary murmured.

She hoped the phony bastard hadn't set her up for a big fall.

/

Devon hated the nightmares.

In them, Lily, his own dear sister, still viciously attacked Hilary, still refusing to forgive.

Although he called Hilary for his own peace of mind and pleasure, warring doubt continued swimming in his unconscious mind, biting him like a poisonous spider. It was a sinking feeling, an overwhelming dread that some familial love threatened his happiness with his future wife and mother of his child.

A danger loomed, an intuitive warning that he must protect Hilary at all costs.

He took out the engagement ring and stared at its beauty, imagining the glittery rock on Hilary's delicate finger. He originally wanted to be on the private jet, but knew he would get down on his knees and propose. The inkling had frightened him yesterday. Last moment seen in the heated eroticism of her astride, loving and calling out his name, he saw the passionate thrall of a queen, a woman who had wrapped his enchanted heart in an unbreakable ribbon.

She wasn't just wanted and desired above all. He needed her. Forever.

The lack of control unnerved and startled him. He never felt so extreme about a woman before. Roxanne came close...

His cell phone rang.

"I'm glad I caught you," Lily said in a frantic rush, not bothering with customary hello.

"Sis, I'm just heading out actually," Devon said, reaching towards the doorknob.

"Not to fly off to California are you?"

"I did want to."

"Devon seriously? Let that woman breathe at least. Sheesh! She probably thinks you have no mind of your own."

"That's not true."

"Where are you really going then?"

"To the office."

"Yeah right."

Devon sighed, reigning in frustrated annoyance.

"Can you please tell me why are you calling?" He asked.

"I wanted to see if you were still coming to Charlie and Maddie's party?" Lily inquired.

"Of course I am."

After a quick goodbye, he opened the door, only to have Gwen race inside, walking past him.

"I need to see you," she said.

"Gwen," Devon huffed. "Now is not a good time."

"I know that you're not interested," she said. "But just hear me out."

"What is it going to take for you to understand that I'm with someone? We're very serious."

"I get it, Devon."

"Okay. Well, what's this?"

"I just started casually talking to someone."

"Uh huh. What does this have to do with me?"

"Everything. See I'm dating Mason Wilder and I think-"

"Wait! What? Mason?"

"Yes."

"Listen Gwen, I know he may seem attractive on the outside, but he is not a good person to start a relationship with."

"He is trying to start fresh, Devon. He deserves a chance."

"Sounds like he already has you buttered up."

"Buttered up?"

"He fed me those same lines all while stealing my identity."

Devon smoothed thick black curls growing on his head, hoping to sink truth into impressionable Gwen. She deserved far better than trash off the street.

She sat on his olive green cushioned chair and deliberately crossed her long legs with slow maneuverability as though she was auditioning for the part of Sharon Stone's character in Basic Instinct.

"Well, if I can't have you," she purred coyly, "Mason is a good bet for me, Devon. I like him."

Devon swallowed uncomfortably, noting how Gwen's manicured fingers trembled on the belt of her long camel toned trench coat, of how he hoped she wouldn't dare take it off and show him what he knew she wanted to show him.

Desperation filled the room and made sweat escape his pores. He needed her to leave. Not because he was tempted by her seductive ploy.

He didn't want to hurt her feelings any more than he had already.

"Just be careful, Gwen. Don't go barking up the wrong tree."

She stood and strolled over, touching his face.

"I'm not worried about my tree, Devon. After all, Hilary introduced us."

/

Sluggish Neil laid on the bed, fully dressed, consuming Hilary's leftovers, lost between imagining her eating and the blurred memories of ambiguous sex marathons with the front desk clerk. They had been in the room meant to be his and Hilary's- the one Jack booked and confirmed. The eager woman was a good lay and a necessary one, considering he hadn't been with a woman in months. Hourly rumps of lustful sweat and meaningless grunts was solely instrumental prep work for Hilary. Her sought out love and ripened youthfulness would need a strong, virile man. He proved himself well and good to a stranger he hoped never to see physically again.

"It will be a while before we get intimate," Neil sighed into the wrinkled pillow, sniffing Hilary's perfume on its satin cream case while stroking her abandoned robe with desperate fingertips. "We will take it slow, my sweetheart. True love has to be taken slow. True love is what we have. You and Devon are just humping horny rabbits. Just like me and that lady last night."

He regretted not watching Hilary sleep, having not had his fill on the Jabot Jet. He had a sick inkling that his son would call or show up in the morning, become an overbearing threat. So he waited until Hilary left the hotel room in order to make haste in the act of lingering on the aftermath of her presence.

At Forester, he came on time.

"Well, right on the dot," Rick said.

"Nice seeing you both," Neil stated, shaking Rick's hand and kissing Maya's cheek while staring at Hilary, tampering down his hungry longing. "Let's get this started."

/

Neil finished preparing celebratory celebrations, setting a private party reservation at one of L.A.'s newly opened fine establishments courtesy of the Forresters. He stepped into Wild Spite, a modest sized restaurant specializing in artisan sushi and specialty temperas. Oriental red carpet, emerald green table cloth on rounded tables with gold embellished white napkins and real crystalline tulip glasses seemed a perfect environment to commit fetal murder.

He bumped into familiar couple on his exit out.

"Christine, Paul, I wasn't expecting to see you two," Neil said, tightly.

"We're just spending a little Genoa City getaway here," Paul said. "Funny seeing you. Did you just have lunch there?"

"Oh no. I'm throwing a small gathering. Hilary and I had a very positive meeting with Forester Creations."

"That's great. Chris and I have dinner reservations tonight."

Neil pursed his lips, fuming inside.

"Wow," Chris said, smiling. "Trying to score another big account with them?"

"Somewhat. Ummm if you'll excuse me."

Neil quickly walked off, angered at the police detective and the DA trying to ruin carefully maneuvered plans.

/

"Everything went down perfectly," Neil uttered, kicking back a virgin martini at a bar far from the hotel. "Now it is time for you to do your magic."

"Hilary is okay with leading a line?" Mason huffed, holding deep black vile to his face, the poison that would destroy his ex-girlfriend's miracle. "My, my, my she's getting more and more vain these days."

"She's a knockout dimepiece. She deserves this opportunity. Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell have nothing on Hilary Curtis."

Mason snorted at a man Neil's age using the word "dimepiece" to describe a woman. He was certain that if Hilary overheard, all of the drugs of this earth combined wouldn't make her fall for someone so out of touch with the world.

Still, Neil Winters was banking and paying him a lot. That didn't necessarily mean Mason felt his sinister plans would succeed.

"What's the plan?"

"I have tonight's celebration all planned out. The Forresters are coming. It's going to be small but tasteful."

"Sounds expensive." Mason nodded, liking the simplicity. "And Hilary?"

"She won't know what hit her."

"But you will be here to pick up the damsel's pieces?"

"Exactly. She'll be devastated. But she's young. There is plenty of time for her to start a family with the right man."

An hour before Neil's planned celebration, Mason emptied the vial into cold sparkling apple cider, watching it darken and turn back normal.

In the midst of his enjoyable perks of nightclubs, good booze, and Rolex buying, Mason didn't want to act like a man tied down to a woman. It happened regardless. He found himself rejecting several sun bathed beauties fawning over him as though he were a winning prize.

Gwen was astonishingly gorgeous and had a brazen tenacity riddled with clandestine secrets, but even she couldn't compete with...

"There you are."

Mason whirled around. His brows rose high.

He found himself facing Hilary's father for the second time in his life.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Douglas Turner. Fancy running into you," Mason sneered.

"I certainly don't want to see you," Douglas snapped.

"Oh how you wound me, Old Man. Now I know that this is definitely not fate."

"Change of plans."

"I don't take orders from you. I'm strictly on Neil Winters payroll."

"Listen Little Man, I would take what I say at face value."

"Or else what?"

" I will tell my daughter exactly what you're planning."

"She won't listen to you."

"She will if I have proof."

Douglas waved a tiny cassette tape and smirked. A dangerous glint shimmered in his black eyes.

Mason folded his arms against his chest, feeling walls closing in. Life no longer seemed like carefree, spoiled fun and vengeance possibilities when a well known murderer wanted to even a score of his own.

"What do you want?" Mason asked.

"To save my daughter- temporarily speaking of course," Douglas stated snidely. "And you're going to be the one who does the job, my boy."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Crimson Red Soiree

"Tell us about the line," Rick Forester started.

"Well," Hilary began, passing out thick manila packets to Maya, Rick, and Neil- careful to avoid fingers brushing against Neil's. "Ashley Abbott's new Jabot foray is an organic, all natural ingredient cosmetics line that will launch in time for Chelsea's next fall collection. There are three limited edition shades of lacquer matte lip sticks- Bobbing for Apple- a hot crushed candy red, The Rum in Raisin- a rich dark velvety purple, and Cinnamon Sin- a seductive shimmery nude. I am currently wearing Bobbing for Apple lipstick with The Rum in Raisin lip pencil."

She could feel Neil's eyes watching her and immediately a stream of thick repulsion boiled hot inside, a strong sick inkling to vomit.

Perhaps it could've been the baby. Yet morning sickness lessened as time passed onward.

Without a shadow of doubt, Neil was utterly despicable. Hilary grew determined to know his game.

"Play nice huh?" Hilary thought, giving him a plastic smile. "I'll play nice alright _and_ see what you're up to."

"Wow," Maya whistled, reading well organized documents before meeting Hilary's gaze. "The lip colors look enticing. The red alone is a seductive hue to die for. Plus you're wearing the hell out of that color combination. I'm impressed. So far."

"Thank you," Hilary said, grinning genuinely at the other brown face in the room. She wondered what Rick's thoughts were on being alone with African American power players looking to take charge in the cosmetic/fashion industries. Although originally she saw herself having a successful marketing firm in the future, something tickled her fancy about shifting that ambitious focus towards competing with Jabot and other big Genoa City corporate giant Newman Enterprises.

"And who are you asking to front the campaign? " Rick asked, his bent head looking through facts and figures. "Are there specific models that you have picked? I would be happy to lend you Forester's up-to-date model catalog- that is if we give the okay for this joint venture."

"That won't be necessary," Neil interjected, staring candidly at Hilary. "You're already looking right at her."

"Hmmmmm..." Rick looked up, appearing stunned.

"What is it?" Neil couldn't hide unprofessional irritation.

"Well, we just hired someone new around here," Rick gazed over to Maya, having secret communication. "This would be a great addition in her modeling portfolio, especially a cosmetics giant like Jabot."

"Yes," Maya said. "Her face is perfect to front the line."

"This is a more mature avenue. As you may know, Jabot is for the more sophisticated woman. This is a full face campaign here," Neil disagreed. "Hilary is fresh, glamorous, and marketable. She has that refined elegance that would appeal to the audience we're shifting towards."

Maya arched a brow and Rick was set to put Neil in his place.

"I wasn't going to personally nominate myself as a model," Hilary intervened, calm and collected in a room of rising egos. "In fact, I saw someone else back in Wisconsin due to capture the limelight... Esmeralda for example."

Neil shook his head and explained that Jabot would settle no less than Hilary, that even the creator herself wanted her- which sounded like a huge bald lie. Ashley Abbott would never.

By end, they reached an agreement- Hilary would front the campaign.

She wasn't sure if she should be elated or furious.

However, with stress level reaching unnecessary levels after an important board meeting no less, she fainted right outside of Forester Creations.

/

"Hilary introduced you to Mason?" Devon asked. He wasn't aware that Hilary had even seen the sniveling creep. It didn't incite anger or anything. Mostly, Devon was a little surprised that she hadn't mentioned their encounter.

"Yes," Gwen said coyly, still touching her belted trench coat, playing a teasing kitten game. "In fact, I do believe he'll be working at Jabot soon."

"What?" Devon nearly screamed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's going to get his old job back? How?"

"Well, he's trying to. I do believe he has Jack's best intentions at heart."

"When it comes to Jack's money of course Mason has the best intentions."

Devon's brows furrowed. Anger was rising, taking away usual calm reserve.

He didn't want Mason anywhere near Hilary or their baby. She had to feel the same way.

"Prison has changed him, Devon," Gwen said, interrupting his thinking. "And I believe for the better."

"I doubt that," Devon spat out, tightening knuckles dreaming of knocking Mason to the ground again and again. It was a dangerous thought, but he would do whatever it took to prevent harm coming to his growing family. Their love was so strong and powerful that it cornered his every waking minute. He would protect rare, precious feeling at all costs.

"I'm going to speak to Jack about this," he inwardly thought. "Or Hilary can come work for me."

"Everyone changes." Gwen crossed her legs with slow deliberation, changing verbalized subject to a body language showcasing desperate attempts of ensnaring him- in bed. "Sometimes change is a good thing."

She still wanted him. That much was obvious.

Shaking his head and closing his eyes for a brief second, he pitied her coming up with such an old, tired minded scheme. Other women had played this temptress game before. Coming up to the Winters apartment to see him back when he lived there, following to his private suite, waiting by the bar, dollar signs shining in their greedy eyes like sparkled diamonds. Of course, this was the same maneuver tactics ladies exercised after learning of his musical production interests too.

Yet he didn't believe Gwen to be a gold digger. Not a college educated accountant. Plus there were so many good eligible men. Why him?

"Gwen..."

"Devon, can't we? Just once?"

He gently took her shoulders and pulled her up from his bed.

"Gwen, you're a lovely young woman. Like I told you before, any man would be happy to have you, but I'm in a very serious relationship."

"But Devon..."

He turned slightly, reaching for his jacket pocket, and opened black velvet box. Her widened hazel eyes grew wild.

"You're going to marry that witch?!"

"Huh?"

Devon shrank back, alarmed by high pitched tone and charged venom radiating from her body. He almost exclaimed, "I thought you two were friends!" but held the words, knowing it would blow their cover sky high.

Still, Gwen's nasty comment and unleashed fury raised questions. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was insecurity. Something wasn't cool about the reserved accountant's immediate reaction. She seemed to know something beyond the surface of what she was letting on...

"I mean... I cannot believe you're getting married. You have only been with her a few months, right?"

She turned away to hide her face.

Her noticeably shaking back heightened his curiosity.

"It feels more like a lifetime," he said softly, hating to hurt her feelings worse. However, it was important that Gwen knew the depth of his love for Hilary. She was It for him. "When I propose to her-"

"Oh," Gwen sniffled. She turned then, wiping a corner of right eye. "You haven't asked her yet?"

"I will and I know that she will say yes."

"Well, she's one lucky lady."

Gwen closed the distance between them, kissing Devon's cheek with a mixture of innocent sincerity and last ditch seduction.

"Give me a call if you change you mind."

She gave a weak smile and sauntered out of the door.

Devon shook his head and drove to the cottage. He had left a few gifts for Charlie and Maddie, wanting just to swing over and pick them up. Due to a conflicting schedule, Hilary had a baby checkup, causing Devon not to spend so much time at Charlie and Maddie's birthday party. So this visit, a makeup gathering, was merely another reason for the twins to spend time with their favorite uncle and enjoy more cake.

Time got the best of him though. He stared at the mantle photograph. His hand reached for framed portrait, a finger brushing against Hilary's smiling mouth. They looked so happy together, so hopeful for their future as a couple, as an expectant family. He almost teared up, remembering days in foster care, the need for family, for a belonging where love was aplenty.

Dru and Neil gave that to him.

"We're going to provide that too, Baby," he whispered. "You're going to be so loved."

/

At Lily and Cane's, a sea of loud, rambunctious children stirred Devon's heart, intensifying joyous excitement of upcoming parenthood. He paid the bellhop who had placed wrapped boxes on a large dolly and helped transport the heavy wheeled cart straight to the front door. As Devon looked upon full attendance, he was eager to share the amazing news with his family, especially his father and Lily. Hilary, though, seemed to the best person who knew and he was thankful enough for that treasure. Hilary made him beyond the realm of happy.

Charlie and Maddie came straight to him, running and hugging his legs.

"Uncle Devon! Uncle Devon!" They chanted.

"Hello! Hello!" He greeted, playfully mocking them. "How are my favorite niece and nephew?"

"We're great!" Charlie exclaimed.

"I can speak for myself," Maddie cheerily retorted. "I'm great, Uncle Devon. Will you have cake with us?"

"Of course, I'll have cake with you guys."

"But first things first," Lily said, pulling her brother away, "the adult part of this party."

"Lily, but-" Devon started.

"Mommy," Charlie and Maddie groaned.

"Don't worry," Lily called out to her pouting angels, "he'll be right back."

They scurried off, pleased that their uncle wouldn't leave early as he did on their birthday.

"What's this adult entertainment?" Devon asked, cackling.

"I hired a fortune teller, Miss Madame Tableau."

Devon burst out laughing.

"What makes you think that I would want to see her?"

"It's just for fun. You'll never guess what she told Sharon after she dropped off Faith."

"Well, I want no part in that."

"C'mon. She's great. It'll help you get over your mooning over your secret girlfriend for a bit. C'mon. Let's go."

"Grrrrrrr. Just this once."

"You certainly went above and beyond the call of duty," Lily whispered, gesturing at the large amount of boxed gifts.

"I couldn't help myself," Devon said, chuckling.

"I feel sorry for your first kid. You'll spoil him or her rotten."

"I can only imagine..."

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That look in your eyes. You've been talking about children with your girlfriend? This early?"

"Well..."

"She better not be pregnant." Lily laughed, tickling his arm. "You're just not ready to be a parent right now."

"Why do you say that?" He grew serious, reacting to her tone, as if the idea of him being a father ludicrous.

"I love you Devon, but you're a known playboy. You're not ready to settle down just yet. Trust me. I know. Having kids takes a lot of time, energy, devotion, and mostly love. You have to be willing to make sacrifices."

"You don't believe I can make sacrifices?"

"Not right now."

Devon grew quiet, wondering if Lily correct. She was one of the smartest people he knew. Perhaps her observations were a little spot on- a little stuck in the past, but still, that was the old Devon. If only Lily knew that he lived in a nice secluded cottage with his true love, more than prepared for his first child's entrance into his life. So, so prepared...

"Come on," Lily said, urging him onward.

"Lily, I'm not into this kind of thing," he groaned.

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"On my ready fueled private jet."

"No Jokester!"

Lily lured him to the table and left, snickering.

Ebony skinned and thin boned, Miss Madame Tableau swam in stylish clothes mixed with jarring rainbow hues and complicated patterns, her hair covered by a massive red and orange turban, colorful, noisy beads dangling from her wrists and throat. She sat still as a statue, staring into his eyes, looking as though she had been expecting him for centuries. There was something true about her voodoo spirit, the invisible supernatural magics swirling around her.

Why had Lily invited this woman?

"Hello there, Sir," authentic Jamaican accent rolled out welcome.

"Hi Miss Tableau, I'm Devon, Lily's brother," he said.

"I know who you are." her head nodded towards the empty seat. "Now let me read your leaves to see if there's more riches to be had for a billionaire."

Devon rolled his eyes, picking up tea leaves and dumping crushed green earth in the wide cerulean water bowl.

They watched floating and disintegration.

"Oh," she moaned, smiling. "You have found your soul mate."

"Yes." He couldn't help grinning, thinking about Hilary.

"Your ground is strong and fertile. I see many children."

"Really?"

"Yes. But there will be difficulties with this first one."

"Difficulties? What kind of difficulties?"

"Obstacles in the way. People obstacles."

He swallowed and looked over at Lily, watching her smile at the twins.

"What can I do?"

"Be with her for as much as humanly possible, Mr. Hamilton. Otherwise you can't save them both in the end."

/

"Reuniting with your husband?" Hilary asked.

"We have a temporary long-distance relationship," Dr. Gillian responded.

"How is that working out?"

"It's hard." She applied light pressure to Hilary's abdomen. "Are you thinking about moving to Los Angeles?"

"Oh no!" Hilary cried, laughing. "My home is in Wisconsin."

"You and Devon seem so happy together, so excited for the baby too."

"We're in love."

Dr. Gillian slid the paper gown back over Hilary's stomach.

Hilary sighed, having been told earlier that Neil escorted her collapsed form to the hospital. It was a very disconcerting thought. For there was no telling what he did while she was unconscious...

"Why not tell the world?" Dr. Gillian inquired. "I see the way you look at each other. Your love is real."

"It's complicated," Hilary admitted.

Her best friend Sharon knew and that seemed enough.

Yet the reappearance of her father kindled a new wave of burning caution mixed with familiar childhood elation- an uneasy threat coming to the surface. No matter how much she tried to hate the man, seeing him again after so many years brought old memories.

But he had murdered two innocent people most importantly Lyd, her sweet, brazen spirited sister which led to Rose's descent into alcoholic madness...

"Everything is fine with Peanut," Dr. Gillian said. "Vitals are normal. Organs are developing strong and healthy. So far so good. However, it's the stress levels for Mommy-to-be that I'm most concerned about, Hilary. I think the stress primarily has something to do with why you're keeping this relationship a secret. It won't be soon before long that everyone knows- about the baby that is."

Hilary's face contorted in fearful panic. She had no idea how long they should continue carrying on the charade. Devon was keen on telling everyone. She was already near showing time.

She flash backed to Lily pushing her in the pool and her nasty retorts. The stress would only heighten once Lily discovered Hilary and Devon were seeing each other, that they were deeply in love and expecting their first child. She would likely throw the world's most outrageous hissy fit.

Blocked memories of Lyd's death came plummeting.

After a crushing sacrifice in London, Hilary had vowed never to do anything remotely horrible for Douglas Turner ever again.

He had destroyed their family, her life. And she was not going to make the same mistake twice in a fortuitous turn of events.

She internally vowed to be a good mother to her children and knew that Devon would be the best father ever. Her heart couldn't have chosen a better protector to cherish and honor...

"Hilary?" Dr. Gillian interrupted. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I'm fine," Hilary responded.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"

"I just want this baby to make it in the world without drama. That's all I want."

"He or she will. You just have to stay calm."

Dr. Gillian left the room.

Hilary immediately changed into her clothes. She called Devon. His cell went straight to voice mail. Although it was pleasing to hear his delightful rich voice, she much preferred him live.

When the doctor returned, Hilary unveiled troubled anxiety.

"Can you tell me why you bailed out on last minute?" Hilary asked, recalling oddity of her lonely flight with Neil.

"Bailed out?" Dr. Gillian swallowed and blinked too fast.

"You were supposed to be on that jet."

"Yes, I know."

Dr. Gillian turned away, pretending to be focused on file folders.

"I know you must miss your husband. I'm missing Devon like crazy right now. What I don't understand is how you could call off so last minute when I needed you the most. A jet is far faster than flying coach."

"Hilary, I'm sorry."

"Neil has something on you?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Turn around and look at me. Be honest or I'll find another obstetrician."

"Look, I'm having an affair okay. Somehow Mr. Winters found out."

/

Lurking in dimmed shadows, hiding behind tall potted palm plants, Mason watched Hilary celebrate with Paul and Christine Williams, two of Genoa City's finest cheese heads, and the premiere couple of the fashion world, Maya and Rick Forester. Muted candles and iridescent bulbs cast flickering spotlight on his ex, showcasing decadent radiance- true splendorous beauty of expectant motherhood. With black goddess hair up in a sophisticated topknot, loose curls framing her exuberant face, she wore a loose fitting red dress matching a sensuous lipstick Eve would use to take Adam off his righteous path. For briefest second, he imagined himself in the framed photograph, the head of their family, holding joyous brown skinned newborn is his arms.

He quickly looked away uncomfortably, gritting his teeth whilst smashing foolish old dreams, pondering next vengeful move- a closer step to money and power.

For starters, he wasn't pleased with being blackmailed twice over. Two superior monkeys were on his back, holding every last trump card, each determined to make a fool out of him.

He wanted to keep his freedom. After all, Jack called him an hour ago, offering bait at the bottom as a junior assistant, likely due to Neil's well-worded tongue. To be the big fish, Mason figured he had to eat as much Jabot bait as possible while carrying on Neil's sadistic plans to destroy the billionaire's love life by killing a seed and taking the prize.

Still, Douglas's threats were not taken lightly. The deceptive murderer also knew how to twist arms.

Repercussions weighed on Mason's mind. Nothing would be simple. Not in the minutes he had left to spare. The decision to pick between more prison time or Hilary finding out he plotted to miscarry her baby proved to be quite a difficult pickle.

Mason didn't want to be on the receiving end of Neil Winters maddening descent into demented looney toon land.

Hilary wasn't going to be a crying damsel either.

She would likely cut off his manhood and dump it in the Nile River.

"Well, as my mother always said, 'let go and let God," he groaned miserably.

With no eyes in his direction, he mixed the potion in one drink and left it up to fates to decide...

/

Neil swirled bitter warm seltzer, wishing it was either bourbon on the rocks, Jack mixed with sweet Coke, or even the good cognac straight up. Alcohol would make for a better victory drink. He had worked long and hard on this twisted plan to dissolve unnecessary baby. The temptation of another fresh cold inebriated elixir could sustain his lecherous joy. Yet last thing he needed was a foolish wrench. The paramedics would smell it on his breath when he rode with them holding comatose Hilary's delicate hand. The whole "I'm clean and sober" routine had to stay solid.

No need for upstarting investigative questioning and motive.

"I'm being ridiculous," he said to himself, chuckling. "No one would suspect me."

He hummed an oldie, dreaming about Hilary being all his and Devon tied up to Gwen.

Oh yes. Neil wanted to pull Gwen deeper into his web.

Perhaps he could have their stupid hideaway cottage destroyed and a new home built in the ashes of the great wrong.

Suddenly, a commotion of loud screams and breaking glasses overwhelmed eclectic house music. The chaos deepened Neil's happiness.

Maya and Rick came scrambling over, breathing hard, terror lining their faces.

"What's going on?" Neil hurried out, hiding pleasure, hiding beaming happiness over Hilary's condition.

"It's Christine," Rick announced grimly. Maya stood at his side, clasping his waist protectively.

"Huh?" He was dumbfounded, slamming his glass on the counter harder than needed. "Christine Blair?"

"I guess. We didn't get her last name."

"What's going on with her?"

"Man! She's on the floor having a seizure and bleeding everywhere!"


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Karma is a Bastard

Devon didn't believe in paranoia.

At least he told himself that such supernatural entities didn't exist.

His hands, however, trembled on the steering wheel, Lily's hired psychic lingering in his conscious, her prophetic words repeatedly beating in him like a thumping hammer. En route to home, rampant flashes of Hilary and their baby in danger almost caused a car accident. A gray SUV beeped at his panic stricken swerve and a fuchsia corvette driver threw up middle finger when he neglected making proper a turn signal.

"Sorry!" Devon yelled out, apologetic over his negligence.

With sweating temples and unstable mind, he reached the cottage, planning to stay inside for an hour or so. Otherwise become mad with missing Hilary. When pulling out his phone to call her, a sweet, endearing text soothed unease.

Sigh of temporal relief escaped him as one by one erratic nerves slowly calmed down.

She messaged "thank you" with an attached picture of herself wearing a smoking hot red dress and holding red roses.

"You're welcome, Baby," he responded back, thinking she meant morning flowers and breakfast. To him, tomorrow could not come soon enough. In fact, he wanted to come down to the airport to greet her and his father.

"Would I be crowding her?" He wondered.

The weekend had been harder than originally considered.

At the same time, it seemed an ultimate test- a question of whether they could exist without the other.

Short separation signaled high time to embark on the next chapter of their love story. He decided then and there that he would propose marriage.

"There's no reason to wait," he said, imagining chivalrous plans coming to fruition.

In his mid-afternoon fantasy, glowing sharply in his mind, blooming rose filled vases overtook living room tables, pink cherry blossom candles lit up their fragrant universe with poignant romance, and iced sparkling cider glinted beautifully against the backdrop of a special prepared supper. He saw her manicured fingers opening up little black box, heard resplendent gasping. Her doe eyes watered, her mouth quivered, finally expelling a passionately uttered "yes."

Devon rushed out of fantasy reverie, stroking red velvet package of French chocolate truffles flown in from a renowned NYC boutique.

Perhaps sooner than later they could tell his family everything- that they no longer had to be a secret much longer.

Still, he understood hesitation.

There remained tidbits he didn't know about Hilary. Some secrets stayed inside intelligent beauty as though shameful, horrific... maybe even grim. Perhaps her past had affected her so deeply that dormant part of herself determined safe keeping from everyone, even the ones who loved her most.

He wished she not be reluctant, that she could reveal more of her upbringing. Surely, she knew that nothing would change the course of his tender feelings for her.

A sudden knock on the door startled him.

They normally didn't receive visitors.

"It's probably Sharon," he thought, rising from the couch and opening the door.

Cane stood on the welcome mat, his features stern.

"What are you doing here?" Devon asked.

"I was going to ask you that same question." Cane's noisy brown leather loafers stepped inside without invitation and looked around. "I don't know how much longer you can keep this a secret, Devon."

"Hilary is my primary concern." Devon shut the door.

"I can see that it's eating you up inside," Cane said. "You need to tell Lily. Or better yet Neil."

"I told you that I am waiting for Hilary," Devon replied, trying to keep composure and fight growing annoyance. "We want the timing to be perfect."

"This is doing a number on your conscience. I saw the way you were looking at the kids."

He stared at his friend- the tall Aussie a father twice other. His attire a cream colored ribbed sweater with red button shirt's collar and sleeves sticking out, ironed khakis lacking slightest crease- suited parenthood role.

"It's hard." Devon resumed sitting back on the sofa, his head in hands. "I didn't think it would be like this."

Cane sat next to him and rubbed Devon's shoulder.

"You know it doesn't have to be."

"I'm the happiest I've ever been."

"I know."

"It just feels like something is going to crash down over everything."

"Well, the two of you have been careful. No else knows."

"Sharon does."

"What do you expect? She lives next door."

Devon laughed.

"However," Cane grew serious, "I think the key to relieving this great agony is to come clean."

/

Hilary's anxiousness intensified.

She preferred packing for tomorrow's morning jet ride back to Genoa City and a long, long nap rather than coming out to the intimate celebration. Yet Rick and Maya's company and a relaxing nonalcoholic drink at one of L.A.'s finest new clubs promised to invigorate her spirits.

Visiting Dr. Gillian left uneasy state of panic that Hilary hadn't felt earlier. An affair wasn't the troubling factor. It was the in cahoots with Neil part that mentally set Hilary on edge. The man was definitely plotting something.

After the hospital, she took a cab to the hotel room.

An expensive red dress waited on the freshly made bed, along with a red ribbon tied bouquet of plump white roses. All thoughts of closing eyes for reprieve dissolved into warm, comforting love.

"Devon," she breathed, smelling and hugging fragrant bouquet close to her chest. Oh how she couldn't wait to return home to their cottage, to their sacred hideaway. She felt happiest there, enveloped in a euphoric world no one else could touch.

"I hadn't even told him anything," she said, reflecting on becoming Jabot's new face model.

Perhaps they truly were soul mates.

She showered and changed into the red dress. One sleeved knockout featured custom designed flowing mesh to conceal growing belly. With tremendous glee, she messaged Devon before heading out to Wild Spite.

"Girl, I must say," Maya gushed, "you always look so amazing. I can see why Jabot wants your face to front the line."

"Oh thank you," Hilary said, "and your coral dress suits you perfectly."

Maya's spaghetti strapped number reached mid calf and her spiraled hair was slick back into an elegant bun.

"Nice seeing you here," Chris said, dressed in a thigh length shimmery emerald green, her blond hair in loose tousled curls. Paul was at her side, in a navy polo shirt and black slacks- very casual for the police chief.

"Paul, Christine, hello," Hilary greeted the couple, surprised to see them outside of Genoa City.

"I heard you scored a successful campaign today," Chris said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Hilary said, beaming at Maya.

"Compliments to you!" An approaching waiter exclaimed, giving them flutes straight off black circular tray. "Two champagnes and two apple ciders."

"For us?" Hilary asked as she, Chris, Maya and Paul took respective glasses. "Wow thank you."

"This is nonalcoholic right?" Hilary and Chris asked in unison.

"Yes of course." The waiter scurried away.

Three smiling ladies and one man toasted one another.

"Did we miss the cheer already?" Neil asked having changed into a short sleeved white shirt and navy blue slacks, entering with Rick who left his earlier gray suit jacket at home.

"Oh no," Maya replied, taking Rick's arm. "You're just in time."

/

Neil's eyes found difficulty breaking away from Hilary. She looked fetching in the dress he picked out.

"Baby, probably thinks Devon bought it for her," he thought snidely, sipping slow, watching from crystal flute's thin rim. "But my son has no taste. He doesn't know you like I do, Hilary. You'll see."

His heart flipped every time Hilary drank, the poisoned amber liquid gliding down her smooth throat, trickling towards murdering evidence of Devon's soiled presence.

Ah, he hated thinking of his son as enemy, as an insignificant foe to best. Yet fair was fair.

Neil was the one who enjoyed Hilary's company beforehand, her beauty and grace titillated him. He had been the first to forgive her misguided thirst for revenge, bring her exquisite skills to the attention of those who saw necessary potential in so astonishingly smart a woman. She deserved a man on her level- whose very success would equal her own- not rival it. Devon had inherited a handsome sum from the great Katherine Chancellor, but he lacked a certain degree of finesse and ambition. Sure he was kind, generous, level-headed, and thoughtful, he was still too young, too inexperienced to realize that what he and Hilary had was a naive attempt at playing house.

Neil almost laughed at the thought of Devon wanting to marry Hilary- she was so out of his league.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to tell you the news," Paul interrupted Neil's internal whirligig of excitement.

"Oh?" Neil feigned interest. "What would that be?"

"Chris and I are having a baby."

"Congratulations!" Hilary squealed.

"Yes congrats," Neil chimed in. "I know you guys have been trying for years."

"Thank you," Chris said. "We're not telling a lot of people just yet, but I'm so happy to bring a little one in the world at last. It's been a huge hope for me to become pregnant."

Paul kissed his wife on the cheek. Hilary and Maya hugged her.

"Congratulations," Rick added, kissing Chris's cheek as well.

"Shall we get a table and gush as we sit?" Hilary asked.

"Well, we were having a private celebration, but-"

"C'mon Honey, the more the merrier," Paul interrupted.

"Yes, let's celebrate these two momentous occasions," Maya said. "We have a reserved table right next to the beautiful view of downtown L.A."

Neil cringed, seeing how Maya and Chris's interactions with Hilary seemed natural, too congenial. Not at all curt and business like. This was supposed to be a gathering to support Jabot's latest conjecture with Forrester. Not a female bonding party bordering on baby shower. Hilary having affable relationships with these women would be bothersome. He liked her being dependent on one person only, a person who loved her unconditionally and had best interests at heart.

He hoped that she would learn to rely on no one else but the future father of her remaining children- him.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, turning towards the bar, "I need to get a virgin drink."

"By all means go," Hilary murmured. 'We'll still be here."

"Yes," he uttered under his breath, smiling. "Soon it'll be just you and me, Hilary. And nothing will get in the way ever again."

/

At GCAC, Devon finished dinner alone downstairs and prepared to return up to the penthouse for another night of awkward sleep.

"Well, hello there," Esther said, catching him at the elevator. "I wouldn't think a handsome man like yourself would have been having a table for one."

"Good evening Esther." He fondly kissed her cheek and gave a friendly hug. "What brings you by?"

"I was just grabbing some takeout." She waved large white plastic bag. "I have a thing for the new swordfish."

"Oh yes. Chef added that recently. You can thank Lily for that."

"She's done a fine job of manning the place- or should I say wo-manning?"

Devon laughed and shook his head.

"You seem to have something on your mind though, Sweetie. Do you mind sharing a little of the load?"

"Am I that easy to read?"

It wasn't that Devon had doubts.

This would be the very first time he ever proposed marriage to a woman. He wanted nothing to go wrong. Nothing.

"I'm about to take the biggest step of my life."

"And what would that be?"

"Do you have the time?"

"Like you, I'm only eating for one," she said, taking a bar stool and patting the one next to her. "Tell me what's troubling you."

He sat down and let out a huge sigh.

"I'm not troubled at all really. Maybe excited. Maybe even nervous. I don't want to mess this up."

"I heard you have been seeing someone for months, Honey. Is that what this is all about? Are things going alright between you and the mystery woman?"

"Oh yes. Everything is fine. We're stronger than ever. What we have is real, pure, and genuine. I've never felt this way about anyone."

"I'll ask one question of you. I mean, it's obvious that you're madly in love. That I can see."

"Yes. I love her."

"Would Mrs. C. approve? She'd only want the best for her wonderful grandson."

"Oh yes," Devon said, blushing slightly. "Most definitely."

"Then by all means move onto the next step. We don't always get the chance."

She rose, squeezed his arm, and left him to blissful dreams.

/

In one quick instant, a joyous scene became gruesome nightmare.

Nighttime club used to dark corners and dimmed strobe lights turned brighter than sun rays.

On the ground, kneeling Hilary held onto Chris's waxen hand as a tearful Paul wiped traces of blood off her lips. Chris's pale face, splotchy and slick with sweat, looked vampiric, near death.

Hilary and Paul whispered Chris's name as last of her violent seizures eased. Sonorous ambulance sirens neared the evacuating club- earlier a scene of celebration.

One minute, they clinked together and the next Chris's mouth splattered blood near Hilary's dress. And then spilled in a horrific gush from between her legs.

"I've never seen this before," Rick had said, his blue eyes widening as he turned away, likely both repulsed and horrified.

/

Inside the bathroom, moments after Rick and Maya gave him horrendous news, Neil lost composure.

"Damn it!" He screamed, an unbelievable amount of rage boiling his blood. Rapid hot temperature rose to same heated degree as horrendous Valentine's Day- the day he saw them giving into larcenous lust from inside of her closet. He liked to remember that as the start to his troubles, the reason he had gone this far.

The world suffocated, squeezed him in.

Hate grew.

He saw not Mason, but Devon on the other side of petulant rage and growing hostilty.

His arm, seeming to ride on the wing of intense destruction, crashed through protective glass, blasting emergency bells.

He hurried out, monstrously pissed, blinded.

There would be no way he could murder off the fetus without anyone questioning the closeness between two miscarriages and his constant vicinity. Even if he could try to stage a little accident, it would seem too coincidental- especially with Chris the D.A. heavily involved. She would want justice served to fullest extent of the law.

As for Mason, Neil wanted to kill the idiot.

"I have gone too far for him to screw this up," he growled, grinding his teeth together so hard they were sure to fall out from rough abrasion.

"It's not over," he said, calming himself down, recalling steps in A.A.

He could always raise Devon's child as his own.

After all, he did it before. With all the love and passion he had for Hilary, he would do anything to have her.

Anything.

/

At Jabot, burning late night oil, Gwen twirled in office swivel chair, flashing back to morning's failure. It was too foolishly soon to play the old "wear nothing under the trench coat" tactic with Devon. They hadn't created a real solid connection, let alone spent intimate time together. Desperation kicked in, telling her to rush, make haste. She gave her best shot, praying that Devon could be similar to any other lust-driven male.

Much to her chagrin, he wasn't.

She hadn't expected Hilary's spell over Devon to almost mirror Lydia with Bryan- although the latter a false pretense scheme.

Devon's mind numbingly exquisite engagement ring reinforced memories of Gwen's snatched happy life. She had been robbed by Hilary's gun tooting father and dead sister. She could never ever forget or forgive it.

 _"I know that she will say yes," Devon had with confident assurance, heavily lashed brown eyes swimming in a disgusting sea of steadfast affection._

"That's what you think," Gwen grunted. The numbers, desperate for crunching, tried to work into math obsessed brain, but concentrating on Jabot business seemed inadequate.

" _Your Bryan died."_

Gwen's fist balled up. Her imagination concocted delightful thoughts of wringing Hilary's neck, choking until brown skin paled and crumpled into a chilling, fateful end.

"Working late?" Mason asked, entering.

Gwen jumped only for a moment and smiled at handsome accomplice dressed in devil's black.

"Oh hello." She stood, walked over to him, and kissed his mouth. "Catch the red eye huh?"

"As soon as the deed was done."

He leaned on clean, organized desk, his back suddenly facing her.

"You mean, you didn't stay to watch Hilary collapse in a heap of pain?"

"No. I couldn't."

His brooding mood strangled her instant glee, turning into another notch on misery scale. Disastrous chain of events had to be stopped dead in their tracks. If she had to throw largest hissy fit, stomping enraged toes on each sworn enemy, she would smash Louboutin heels on every single one.

"Defeat and best them all," she thought.

She looked at Mason. He had grown solemn in uncomfortable silence.

"Mason?"

"Why are you hellbent on Hilary?" Mason asked. "It was her father who shot him."

"She's his daughter. Eye for an eye as they say."

"Their relationship isn't cozy."

"I'm just saying you should be concentrating those ruthless energies on the culprit. Hilary was just a kid then- an innocent bystander."

"I would if I knew where he was," she lied.

Her anger and envy, tied viciously together, was saved for Hilary alone.

/

Douglas was pleased to see Dr. Gillian.

They met on the rooftop of L.A. General Hospital, secluded by shadows.

He looked older. Gray nearly overtook thick black beard and clouded hair, his sepia eyes reddened and awakened, as though he hadn't slept in days.

"Where does your husband think you are?" He asked, licking ashen mouth, eagerly waiting information like it food needed to survive.

"On a call," she whispered, calmly keeping anger at bay, her hands gathered into white lab coat pockets.

"And the patient?"

"Which one?"

"Why my Ann of course."

Dr. Gillian rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue.

"The baby is well," she replied. "Hil- I mean Ann is stressed. She knows Neil is blackmailing me."

"You should've been a little more careful."

He touched her cheek.

She slapped his hand away.

"This is your fault for coming to Genoa City in the first place!" She screamed.

"I'd keep that tone in check if I were you," he sneered, his voice like a dart striking target.

"You're getting everything you want."

"Yes. Yes I am. With this grandchild of mine, I finally get the chance to start over and make things right again thanks to you."


End file.
